


The Adventure This Snake Never Asked For

by BurnerAccount



Series: Naga Adventures [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Interspecies Romance, M/M, Meet the Family, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-25 07:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12030915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnerAccount/pseuds/BurnerAccount
Summary: An adventurer's job is to charge into danger, face the unknown, and fight for what they believe in.Meeting an adventurer'sfamilyrequires all of that, and more.This naga would have preferred to stay home.





	1. Chapter 1

Zeph leans his arms against the front of the cart. He watches the trees pass by as they trundle along the road, and shifts his tail as they hit another bump.

His tail is draped awkwardly over the cargo. It's uncomfortable, at best. It’s the worst bed he’s ever slept on, and that _includes_ when all of this gold was piled up in his den, instead of in chests.

But this shouldn't be too dangerous. In theory. 

Because Zeph _knows_ humans. He knows them better than any other of his kind. How they work. What they _think_. That species isn't difficult to understand - though they still surprise him, sometimes. Actually, they surprise him often. Way, _way_ too often -

But that's the human Zeph  _knows_ , not just. Humans in general, and in  _no_ realm of reality does  _Max_  represent an average human.

As the forest slowly opens up into fields, Zeph lowers his face into his arms, and sighs.

Even despite Max, Zeph thinks he knows that species, from what he's read. At least part of what makes them... them.

Not because he made a study of them. Only because _they_ write _all_ of the books. It's unavoidable.  _Everything_ ends up being _human_ opinions, and _human_ commentary. Anyone who _reads_  gets full-on human perspective from the story.

They’re a social species, of course. They gather together like almost no other creature does. They build buildings on top of each other, and cluster together. Most sentients only gather for battle, or trade or-  Other activities.

All of those are temporary. _Permanence_ is for mates, or family. For some species, even _those_ don't exist. Zeph snorts, a little rueful.

But _humans_.

They make permanent neighbors, and companions. Permanent dwellings, relationships - they make spaces not only _amongst_ each other but quite literally on _top_ of each other. And somehow, family and mates get clustered into this... kind of ridiculous, overgrown mass.

Get enough of them together, and they don't run for the hills, or tear each other apart. Not more than normal, anyway.

No, they do something else.

They make _cities._

Like the one that has gone far past being on the horizon, and is, too fast for Zeph's liking, approaching fast as their cart moves forward.

He glances around. It's too close for anyone to flee, without arising suspicion. Especially if they're a very large target.

The caravan continues, mechanically uncaring of anyone’s doubts.

Zeph is here, travelling with it. Riding in a cart that's a part of it. And he’s gone too far to go back. He's already committed himself to this….

The warm weight on Zeph’s scales shifts. He glances over his shoulder at the human mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

Adventure.

Max could be riding in a different part of the caravan. Somewhere meant for passengers. A human actually _fits_ in one of those those ridiculously small carriages.

Instead, Max is sprawled over Zeph’s coils, limbs spread wide. He’s traveled the entire way back in this uncomfortable cart with Zeph, though blessedly he's dressed in soft leather and linen, rather than his usual armor. Max might squirm a lot, too - but he cuddles up to any part of Zeph he can touch, and he’s warm, and soft. A pleasant, if wriggly heater.

Zeph runs his fingers through Max’s hair, watching him sleep. Strokes down his human’s side gently, straightening out his clothing.

At least _Max_ is comfortable. He doesn’t have a care in the world.

He's going somewhere where he knows all the rules, knows exactly what to do. And when he's on an adventure, at least _half_ of what he has to do is slash someone in half. Max can always know, with absolute certainty, what will work.

That's not an option for Zeph. Wrapping the end of his tail around someone’s throat would be _acceptable_ back home. Not like anyone could stop him. The valley is _Zeph’s_ territory, and those people are _his_ people.

With humans, that's insane. They have a strange set of rules that mean nobody strangles _anyone._

And Zeph's a _monster_. Attacking _anyone_  in a human city is basically suicide.

Zeph uncoils enough to rise up. The light grey walls of the city boundaries are in sight, and coming closer every second. Strength won't work here, in any way, in any form. Even showing it off would be a bad idea. To keep this going smooth. To keep safe. He's going to have to use _knowledge_ , instead of-

Then he coughs. Frowns, and tries not to spit.

So near the city walls, the air is filled with. Human. And smoke, and horse, and stone, and tar, and - 

Zeph clasps a hand over his nose, and his mouth. 

The caravan has stopped, as every cart lines up at the gates.

Which has _guards_. Inspecting everything. The first cart gets glanced over, before it’s waved through. The second one advances, and their cart slides up in turn.

Max sits up, snorting. He pushes Zeph’s tail away from over his face, blinking groggily. He rubs at his eyes.

“...Are we there yet?”

Zeph nods.

“Great!” Max says, bright as always, standing up. He hops out of the back of the cart, landing on the ground with a satisfied ‘oof’. He spreads his arms wide. “Ah,” He sighs. Eyes closed, beaming. “Good to be back.”

“Max,” Zeph mutters. He leans over the edge of the cart, he wants to follow, but. Slithering out after Max would invite questions, or worse.

Max hums some kind of tune, trotting up to the front of the caravan. He pats a horse on the neck fondly, as the wagon in front of them passes through the gates.

The last transport gave Zeph a moment to wake Max, but that was the last buffer between him and the entire mass of humanity behind these gates. The cart before them trots easily forward, with barely any inspection. There was nothing suspicious about their cargo, of course. Nothing large enough to be concerned about.

 _They_ weren’t carrying in a _naga_.

Zeph notices every pebble trundling under the wheels as the cart moves forward.

“Next.” The guard in charge has slightly more metal on the chest of his uniform than the others. He’s bored, clipboard in hand, looking at a checklist. There’s a sword on his hip, he’s armored all over.

Max, reckless as always, is already jogging up to him.

“Sam!” Max darts forward, grabs the guard’s hand and shakes it, gripping it tight. His smile is like a beacon of enthusiasm. “It’s been ages! You’re on gate duty now? Glad to see you’ve moved up in the ranks!”

Zeph sits up straight. Max is always friendly, and it usually works out.

But _occasionally,_ it backfires, and that's _always_ a disaster.

The head guard startles, slightly. Staring as Max waves their hands up and down. He glances down at them, then up at Max’s face.

The sudden laugh makes Zeph frown.

Then the guard grips Max’s hand back, tight. He even claps another over Max’s. The handshaking goes on for longer than Zeph thinks it normally does.

“Max! By the gods. It’s been _years_.” The lead guard grins, delighted. “You’re _alive_!”

“Ah, you know how it is,” Max says, sounding a bit bashful. He rubs at the back of his head, grins. “I’ve just been busy, forgot to write.” He winces. “I’m gonna pay for the last one.”

“Well, let me say, it’s great to see you in one piece.” The guard has practically shaken Max’s hand off, with how long this has gone on. “How’re the adventures?”

“Amazing!” Max exclaims. He spreads his free arm wide, with dramatic enthusiasm. “I heard rumors of this necromancer’s old temple. Old gods, am I right?” He elbows the guard playfully. “So, once I got in-”

Zeph rolls his eyes, and slumps. That story is one that - almost impossibly - ended well. Most of Max’s stories could have gone horribly wrong, and Zeph is keeping count.

But there’s enough stories in Max to last for _hours_. At some point these humans are going to have to deal with Zeph, but it’s comforting to know Max can keep them occupied, for a moment. He lashes his tail back into a more comfortable position. Slithers in a circle, trying to find a way to settle down.

There’s a small, quiet sound.

Zeph darts his gaze over towards it.

The lead guard is chatting with Max, and he’ll be distracted for as long as Max can go on about things. Which is basically forever. He’s no trouble.

The _other_ three have noticed that along with the usual travelers, goods, and immigrants - There’s a _monster_.

The first guard stands straight, eyes wide, hands tightening around a halberd. The second simply stares, head tilted, confused, as if she’s been presented with a puzzle. The third is trying to very politely, yet discreetly, get the attention of their captain, tapping him on the shoulder.

The captain’s too distracted, listening to Max’s horrifically life-threatening exploits, he waves off the tapping. Humans can listen to every bit of Max’s adventures, and think they’re _entertaining_ , instead of insanely dangerous.

Zeph clears his throat, steadies himself.

Theoretically, this should be easy. All Zeph needs to do is be calm, composed, and _unthreatening_. He managed it with the caravan leaders, he can manage it now. Stay still, stay calm, stay even-tempered.

The first guard, halberd shaking in his grip, steps forward, while the second takes a few steps back. The third is reaching for the hilt of his sword.

Zeph tenses. He rolls his tail up in a tight coil. 

He isn't sure what to say. If anything.

Speaking might be a bad choice. He let Max do all the talking to get him onto this godsawful cart in the first place.

As for slithering off....

It’s at least two weeks of caravan travel back to his den. Without transport, it’s _four_ weeks of slithering back, at _best_. And fall is coming up faster than Zeph would like, so he’d have to hunt along the way. Call it five weeks. That’s _if_ he caught enough prey to get ready for winter. If he doesn’t, that’d be one _hell_ of an unpleasant spring.

Zeph’s scales itch badly, even though he’s months away from shedding. Why did he agree to follow Max here, why did he go anywhere he couldn’t _escape_.

When the tip of halberd starts lowering towards him, even if it’s shaking -

Zeph hisses low, and loud, with the very clear undertone that _nobody_ is going to like what happens next.

The guard jumps backward with a shout, fumbling and nearly dropping his weapon, and Zeph claps a hand over his mouth, shutting his eyes.

 _Hissing_ , honestly. He’s not a juvenile anymore.

The lead guard’s head jerks up in alarm, and Max...

Max blinks for a second.

Then he smiles, trots over without a care in the world, hopping up to grab onto the cart's edge, grinning at Zeph. “I know, it’s been a long trip,” He pats Zeph’s shoulder, hanging onto the edge of the cart with his other hand. “You can nap when we get to my place. Have some time to relax!”

“Ah,” Sam starts, fumbling his clipboard. His eyes dart towards Zeph, then at Max, back and forth. He clears his throat. “Is that thing... safe?”

Zeph keeps his tail still, instead of letting it lash around.

The guards are all human. Clustering together like that is perfectly normal for their species, protecting themselves. At least they’re not moving forward.

Besides, Max is handling things. He lets his tail loosen up, and slides downward.

Max turns back towards the guards, cocking his head to one side. “Well, I’ve got my weapons back here, I suppose, but...” He looks hesitant - then realizing.

“Aha!” Max lets himself drop down to the ground again, and raises a hand. “This isn’t like the other deliveries! This time I made _sure_ none of the treasure was cursed!” He rests his fists on his hips, looking proud. “I had _help_.”

Zeph smacks a hand on his face.

Max is bright, in his own way. But somewhat… eccentric for his species. It simply hasn’t occurred to him.

Zeph taps Max on the shoulder, and clears his throat.

“What?” Then, after a second. “Oh.” Max says, eyes widening. He shrugs at the guards, and makes a vague motion behind himself. “What, you’re -” He’s honestly surprised. “About _Zeph_?”

"But-"

Max snorts. He waves off the sentence before it can even get started with a smile. “Oh, come on. That’s my _friend_! He’s harmless!” And he gives Zeph a wink, pointing a finger at him. "And _handsome_."

Somehow, Max manages to make the _completely legitimate_ concern of a _naga_ in his cart sound like it was silly to ever question.

The guards still trade looks.

“Zeph here is a _very_ good friend of mine, and he’s only here to visit, not devour.” Max draws himself up importantly, holding a hand to his chest. “I swear on my honor as an adventurer.”

And to top it off, Max whips out his most charming smile.

It’s the bright, enthusiastic smile that has little old ladies baking cookies for him. It’s probably charmed all kinds of maidens, and made them swoon at this brave adventurer. Convinced other adventurers to go along with Max'a bold plans, which mainly consist of bravely - or idiotically - charging forward.

Max always thinks things will work out _great_ , and for him, they usually do.

There’s a brief pause.

Zeph lowers himself down while the guards are still thinking. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then Sam shrugs. He checks something off. ”Well, then.” He gives the horse leading the cart a pat on its neck. “Move along.”

The gates open. The cart starts moving again, hooves slowly beating on the ground.

Max gives the guards a quick salute. “Thanks, guys!” He waves at the guards, backpedaling as he tries to keep up with the cart, while also giving his goodbyes. “I’ll see you later!”

Zeph stares forward, watching the buildings growing in his sight. Max tumbles back inside without a word, falling into his coils. The warm weight is welcome, and familiar.

And he has no idea what to say.

He rests part of his tail over Max’s chest - feels the soft, pleased noise Max makes, as he tucks an arm around it - and stares at the gates as they close again behind them.

Max is very charming, of course. He’s a handsome human too, and that plays a part in how his kind do things. Still.

It couldn’t _possibly_ be that simple.

Getting a _monster_ through the city gates was easy for him. Zeph wants to ask about whatever that was. What it meant. Mostly, how that even worked.

Their cart rolls over the streets, past the brick and mortar houses, over cobblestones - and Zeph changes his mind about asking, for the moment. While they’re here, Zeph’s keeping his mouth shut.

Inside the city is somehow even worse than outside.

“You’re going to love my family, Zeph.” Max says. He runs his hands over Zeph’s scales, in slow strokes. His hands are hot and pleasant. “Don’t worry about anything.”

Zeph isn’t _worried_. He’s only a little on edge.

Max waits for a response, tilts his head - then cringes, looking apologetic. “And… yeah. Cities could smell better,” He admits, a bit chagrined. “Sorry, can’t do much about that.”

Zeph grumbles, holds a hand over his mouth. “If this is civilization, I’d rather stay outside it.”

“My parent’s castle will be better, honest.” Max sits up straighter. “There’s good food and great hospitality.” He spreads his arms wide, and grins. “You’ll love it!”

“Wait,” Zeph raises a hand. “Castle?”

When he glances outside of the cart, the stone walls of the largest building are growing closer.

The center of this whole human city is the goal. The place where the most important humans live. The ones in charge of this chaos.

That’s where they’re going.

Because that’s Max’s home.

“Yeah! It’s…” Max hesitates. His arms drop slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Zeph has to struggle to find the words.

How human society works is strange. Zeph’s read about it, but it still doesn’t make _sense_. Max said they were visiting family. That they were ‘important’. But for humans, family is _always_ important. The idea that they might be important to humans _besides_ Max is.

Zeph asks. It’s not like Max would ever lie to him.

“Are you a _noble_?”

“Of course!” Max beams proudly, resting a hand against his chest.

“Your last name isn’t ‘the adventurer’.”

“What? No, it’s Richards.” Max frowns. “I’m pretty sure I mentioned that.”

“You didn’t.”

“I- Oh..” Max realizes quickly, face falling - but he recovers even quicker, and smiles brightly. “Surprise! Ah, well." He nudges Zeph in the shoulder. "A little adventure never hurt anyone!”

Even if Zeph ignores how that’s blatantly false, and adventuring is the most dangerous profession _ever_ -

Their cart has split from the caravan, moving on to a different destination, and another gate.

If the guards at the city gate were bad, the ones guarding the castle are there for the highest status of human possible. Zeph can already hear them as they roll close to the castle gates. More heavily armed, and armored. More paranoid. They have more to protect. They have more weapons, they’ll.

Sound absolutely _delighted_ , the instant Max pops his head out of the front, and waves at them.

There’s some chatter, Zeph doesn’t care to hear it. He surges up, leans over Max’s shoulder, to be certain he’s smelling things right. Four humans, armed just as Zeph expected. It’s not quite like the city guards. Here, their armor shines bright, polished like new.

And a _gnoll_ , grinning toothily as it stands alongside a human, snarling something in its strange tongue.

The gates swing open, the guards wave them through, and the cart moves on.

Max flops back onto Zeph’s tail with a grin, jolting Zeph back to attention. “See? Everything’s fine! I promised you a vacation, Zeph.” Max gives Zeph a quick kiss on the cheek. Max is holding his hand, and smiling so, so brightly. He’s even proud. “You’re gonna love it here.”

Their cart trundles forward for maybe a minute more, before it slows to a stop, somewhere in the middle of the castle courtyard.

Max hops out of the cart instantly.

Zeph stays in place. His back straight, and his tail uncoiled.

Whatever he faces here, it’s not likely to come at him with strong coils, or swords, or magic. He’s survived far worse than an encounter with a noble family, especially one he’s being _introduced_ to. As far as important humans go, there’s only Max’s parents, and Max.

Compared to trying to lead five thousand wriggling, bickering nagas back home, being pleasant to three humans can’t be _that_ difficult. Not when Zeph’s already got one third of them group in his corner.

There’s a bustling of servants, rushing around. Some gathering the horses, another few rush to take care of the cart. Max greets half of them, high-fives a few of them. Completely comfortable, even in the center of chaos. Servants rush to and fro in a mess Zeph can’t keep track of.

Max turns around in place, until he suddenly straightens up. Zeph follows his gaze, and sees - the single oldest human in the courtyard.

The man - older, slightly greying in his hair - looks up from his pile of papers, eyes widening.

Max instantly charges headlong towards him. "Will!" His arms are spread wide, and welcoming. Zeph winces in sympathy. Max’s friendliness is. Rather sweet, but his enthusiasm... can leave a mark.

To Zeph’s surprise, ‘Will’ accepts the hug with a smile, and an athletic ease that looks almost _practiced_. He leans back into the momentum of Max’s charge so he isn’t folded in half by the impact.

And when Max lets him go, and steps away, he grunts slightly, straightening up as he taps his back.

“Max,” Will says, resting his hands on Max’s shoulders, smiling. “It’s been too long.”

Max snorts, amused. “Ah, it hasn’t been that-”

“Two years?”

“I was busy! I’ve had so many-”

“ _Two. Years_.” Will gives Max a long look. “You didn’t even write.”

“Well.” Max clears his throat. “Let me tell you about all of my-”

“Mother’s been asking about you,” Will says, very mildly. The corner of his mouth quirks up.

Zeph has seen all of Max’s moods. Happy, angry, frustrated, happy, drunk, very momentarily sad, and happy.

Now, Max looks, for the briefest moment, _nervous_.

“Okay. I should have sent a letter.” He rubs at the back of his head, then smiles again. “I’m sure I can explain.”

“It’s not me you have to explain it to,” Will says, still very mild.

Max laughs, less heartily than usual. “Hey, I’m alright! That’s what matters!”

Some conversation goes on, and Zeph…. would listen in.

Now he’s concerned with the fact that _goblins_ , of all things, have scrambled onto the edge of the cart, and several of them - all of them really - are eyeing the treasure. Zeph doesn’t _hiss_ , but a good glare gets all them scrambling away.

He leans over the edge, just to be certain they haven’t touched the cargo. It’s Max’s treasure. Whether or not he’s handing it over to his family, those kind of scavengers shouldn’t get anywhere near it.

Will glances over at the sudden, frantic scramble. One of his eyebrows goes up.

“If your… guard would care to let the servants bring in the treasure, that would be helpful.” He runs his eyes down Zeph's torso, which - Zeph sits up straighter, oh hell, that's all he can _see_ - “And I’m sure we could find him a shirt, if he’s lost his.”

“Oh, don’t bother!” Max says, cheerful, he waves it off as nothing. “Zeph _never_ wears clothes.”

Will’s eyebrow goes up even higher. Zeph wants to cringe.

Before this can become _yet another_ situation where Max didn’t explain enough -

Zeph lifts himself up, slithers over the edge of the cart, and drops to the ground with a loud ‘thump’ as his underbelly hits the ground. Getting out of the damned cart is a relief, in any case. It gives him time to stretch out his tail, lashing it around. There wasn’t much opportunity on the road. Having some space is a relief.

Will’s hands drop from Max’s shoulders, expression blanking.

Max grins, and waves, and beckons Zeph closer. 

Zeph can crack his knuckles and sigh, before sliding over to Max, and looking at this other human. Significantly older than Max. Very slightly wrinkled. His hair darker, with small white streaks in it. As he looks - Zeph narrows his eyes. The man seems to be evaluating him, as well.

“Zeph!” Max exclaims. He waves vaguely at this other human, grinning with pride. “Meet my oldest brother.”

“Your brother?” Zeph takes another look, finds too much similar, if older. “You have clutch-” The right word for humans is - he searches for it, and says, “Siblings?”

“Yeah! This is Will. Will?” Max pats Zeph on the chest, beaming with pride. “This is Zeph.”

And he hugs onto Zeph’s arm, beaming.

Will meets Zeph’s eyes, slightly surprised.

Zeph's not sure what to say or - he glances at Max, then back at Will, and - what is _polite_ here - shrugs.

After a brief second, Will makes the slightest shrug back.

They must have _something_ in common, because their thoughts are clearly the same. That Max has never mentioned _anything_ about this... _whoever_ this is, and they both truly wish he had.

“Zeph.” Will says, blandly. He trails his eyes over Zeph’s middle, then along his tail. Then up again, meeting his face. “I see.”

“Okay,” Max admits, sounding amused and annoyed in equal parts. “He's _Zephyrus_ , if you _have_ to be formal, Mr. Soon-to-be Lord Richards.”

“Zephyrus, then.” Will takes in a quick breath, and straightens up. He’s clearly adjusting. “New friend of yours?”

“He’s going to hang out with me while I’m visiting,” Max agrees. He's leaning into Zeph, pleased.

“Well,” Will says, assuming a more professional demeanor. He starts writing something down on his papers. “I”m sure we can put your guard up in the stables, while-”

“Pfffft.” Max rolls his head back with such amused derision it makes both Will and Zeph stare. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He squeezes Zephs’ arm tighter, beaming. “Let the servants know he’ll be staying with _me_.”

“Oh,” Will says, at the same second Zeph asks, “What?”

Max gives them both a surprised look. “Come on, a naga would only scare all the horses. Besides, Zeph, it’s ground floor, so no stairs, and,” He turns to Zeph, and grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “ _Right_ next to the kitchens.”

Zeph has to take a second.

The stables are an option. Arguably, the best one. They’d smell of horse, he’d scare said horses, but _humans_ don’t stay there. The other option is right inside the human dwelling. In the heart of it.

It’s one thing to be near a human nest, and another to slither right into the thick of it. If Zeph took the offer, he’d be.

With Max.

Who smells good. Who’s comfortable and warm in Zeph’s coils. And if his room is close to where the cooking goes on, Max probably gets to raid it whenever he’s feeling hungry, which is often, and don’t noble humans always have food?

They have so much they have _feasts_.

“I accept your offer.” Zeph rests his hand over Max’s where it clutches his arm.

“Great, that’s settled!” Max declares. He claps his hands together, pleased. "Zeph'll stay in my room!" There's a small sputter - Will starts to say something -

Just as Max gasps, shoulders rising up. “Wait, wait, I’m gonna.” Max surges forward, and taps Will on the shoulder, before shuffling away. “I gotta go see Dad.” He grins, somewhat awkward. “Before Mom catches me.”

“Oh,” Will opens his mouth, shuts it. Glances at Zeph, then says “But, Max-”

Will’s words trail off, as Max absconds so quickly even _Zeph_ doesn’t react fast enough to grab onto him.

Will watches his brother take off with a longsuffering sigh, rubbing at his forehead.

“He always does this.” He mutters.

“He does,” Zeph agrees, folding his arms. “Takes off without a second’s notice.”

 _Every_ adventure starts this way, and this simple 'family outing' has, too. Not even _considering_ how it leaves other people in the lurch.

A soft hum next to Zeph makes him turn.

Will is looking at him. Calculating something.

If Zeph's lucky, part of it might even be 'how to accommodate a naga'. 

He knows he’s larger than every other naga. He knows he’s strange. That he’s much longer, much stronger, that his pattern is odd. That he's nowhere near normal and he looks far from innocuous - but he’s never touched a human, not in his entire life.

...Max touched _him_ first. He doesn’t count.

It wouldn’t make sense for this human to label him as dangerous, especially after being brought in by his _brother_.  Though humans can be irrational, surely this wouldn’t be the case, here. Their servants are already…

Zeph narrows his eyes at the goblins still unloading the cart.

Unorthodox.

It's worth asking anyway. Zeph lowers himself a few inches, so they can be eye level.

“Is there a problem?” He keeps his voice low.

Will glances up and down. It takes a moment for him to reply.

“I didn’t think nagas went in for treasure,” He says, after a moment, looking down at his papers. He turns to watch the chests being hauled away, making a mental calculation, then starts making notes. “I assume Max forgot to give you your share. Plus, whatever your guard pay is. I’m sure we can-”

“No,” Zeph interrupts, urgently. His den is already _flooded_ with treasure, Max collects _so much_. Getting _this_ much out was already an ordeal. Having it come _back_ is not an option. ”Keep everything.”

Will looks up, pen pausing mid-scribble.

“I already have what I want,” Zeph says, after the brief silence has already gone awkward.

There’s another, longer pause.

Then Will turns towards the castle, shaking his head. “At least let me show you in, before you scare the livestock." Another, brief pause. "And the servants. Again.”

Zeph follows this human as he strides forward, his tail washing away the footprints in the dust.

The doors to the castle are almost as large as the gates on its walls. Ironwrought, heavy things, that open wide for Will as he walks towards them without even looking.

The castle proper is exposed. There are always grand halls, in castles. Zeph isn’t surprised by this one. After all, he’s read about them.

Stone walls. High ceilings. The light of day is replaced by candles on the walls, and chandeliers overhead. Illuminated enough to show off.

Everything.

Zeph stares, and stills in place.

Will stops after a few more steps, glancing back once he hears Zeph’s not following - then at the walls. He snorts.

“Ah, yes. Father’s old trophies. Rather impressive collection, I think.”

Zeph faces forward, back straight. "And what does your father do.”

“Once upon a time, the same thing _Max_ does.” Will says, shrugging. He keeps walking. “That was decades ago, of course.”

“I see,” Zeph agrees, and keeps following.

The servants give him a wide berth, like he was a rock in a river. Will doesn’t seem bothered. Though if he's the _oldest_ of the children, then- Zeph clears his throat. “Your father must be getting on in years.”

“Not that you’d know it.” Will says, absentmindedly. He’s still calculating something in his notes, but laughs, very soft. Almost affectionately. “He’d be off on another quest in a _second_ , if Mother let him." He smiles. “Max takes after him rather strongly.”

"I understand completely," Zeph says, completely neutral.

Maybe he's studied texts. Humans, Zeph knows them slightly, from that. He's no idiot, he can infer things, but if there's _any_ human in the world Zeph knows, it's _Max_.

Once, when Max was injured. Zeph was told by a human medicine maker that Max needed to be kept at rest for three weeks. Zeph didn’t know about legs, but it seemed reasonable, bones don’t heal quickly.

That problem was like trying to dam up a river. All enthusiastic declarations of being ‘fine!’, followed by almost falling on his face.

It ended up being _six_ weeks instead of three, simply because _nothing_ can keep Max down. Except for some judiciously applied wrapping him up with a strong tail, and even _then_  Zeph still had to read to him, so sheer boredom wouldn’t make Max try and squirm away.

Max never lets _anything_ stop him. _Ever_. Serious injuries. Impossible odds. Imminent danger.

None of those things mean anything to an _adventurer_.

Among the many trophies on the wall. All that Max’s father has collected. Zeph’s trying not to glance back, but one sticks in his mind.

A large, pebbled coat of scales. Split in half and spread out for display, like a tapestry. 

“I'm surprised he needed a guard.” Will states. Zeph jerks to attention. “Max hasn’t needed one before.” It sounds casual, but when Zeph looks - Will’s look is. Contemplative. “He’s made enemies, then?”

Zeph slows in his slide. He swallows. His throat feels dry. “As far as I’m aware, Max has mostly made friends.”

It’s occurred to Zeph that he _may_ have forgotten a major human fact.

Humans stay together, in the same place, for many reasons. For family, for money, for protection. For honor.

For _companionship_.

And Zeph just agreed to reside in _Max’s bedroom_ for the term of their visit, like a fool.

“So,” Will starts to ask-

“I- wasn't hired. I owe him,” Zeph says, instantly. It’s true, to a certain extent. If Max hadn’t stepped in. Proven Zeph wasn't a maneater. “He saved my life, once. So when he asked me to-” Zeph stops.

How to finish that without _explaining_ is a mystery -

But to Zeph's absolute relief, something seems to settle itself in Will's mind. His back visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping. “Ah, yes, of course. The roads can be dangerous. And I’m sure whatever he did for you was very heroic.” Watching Will relax means _Zeph_ can relax, too. For the moment. “You can pay your... life debt back at some point, but he's rather safe here. Any trouble will happen on your trip back."

Zeph nods, and says nothing.

These nobles are used to monsters. Zeph’s lucky that they are. Perhaps it’s why Max gave him a chance in the first place. His family has fought dangerous monsters. Other monsters serve them. They seem treated well, as far as Zeph can tell, but.

‘Lesser beings’ fits how humans think. It’s one thing for a human to have a monster as a servant, or opponent.

It’s a completely _different_ thing for a human to have a monster as a…

Damn, and in the stories, human fathers want potential mates to introduce themselves. Zeph's _certain_ he's read about that. The male asks the father for permission to mate their offspring.

But - Damn it, Zeph never got a _chance_ to ‘declare intent’. He never even _intended_. Looked, a little, but only above the waist. Thought about, maybe, on rare and guilty occasions. But _Max_ was the one who flung himself into _Zeph’s_ arms, and how could _that_ be refused?

...That’s not likely to make Max’s father any happier.

Max wants his family to _like_ Zeph, or he wouldn’t have asked Zeph to join him in the journey in the first place. They’re taking an insane risk together, for a purely theoretical reward.

Zeph could have stayed back. Comfortable and safe and warm, right in the center of his territory, not having to leave his home.

And knowing _Max_ -

He would have gone on about _everything_ with his typical lack of explaining.

That he met a naga. Mated with him one spring, and during all of their weird, extended, friendship - does it count as _courtship_? Zeph doesn't know -  he didn't write his family for _two years_. Who knows what details he’d remember to add, there’s no telling how that would be interpreted. The best guess is ‘badly.’

While he's here, though, _Zeph_ can explain things. It might work out. If Zeph knows enough about humans. If he’s clever, and careful. To make it seem not _completely insane_ , for a human and a naga to be.

Whatever they are. Max has never said he's- There are bigger problems than that.

This might work out, or Zeph might end up becoming a tapestry.

Going into the unknown like this, and taking risks, surrounded by strange beings... Zeph sighs.

He _really_ hates going on adventures.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I keep writing these OCs. Whoops.

“Is something the matter?” Will's giving Zeph a very strange look.

“Hm?” Zeph starts. He turns his attention back towards the chessboard, and stares. “It’s nothing.”

“You haven’t made a move in the last two minutes,” Will says. His voice is full of the same very mild patience he had with Max.

Zeph rubs at his face. He remembers what move he was going to make. “It’s just that…"

How to say it. He sets his knight down, trapping the bishop.

“Just that what?” Will raises an eyebrow at the chessboard, and frowns.

Will’s calmer since they first met. The ‘life-debt’ gave him rationale, to explain why a naga was travelling with his brother in the first place. So far, it’s worked out well.

Suitors have to prove themselves to the family, and Zeph thinks he made the right call with Max’s oldest brother. After one game, Will’s tone towards Zeph changed from gentle condescension, to asking a few questions himself. Second one, he sat up straight, and started talking strategy.

Three games in, he’s landed on speaking frankly to Zeph. He’s willing to talk about anything.

Zeph’s risen in this human’s view. He might even be in the position of ‘intriguing stranger’, instead of ‘monstrous servant’. It’s a start. Still, Zeph has a point to make, and he has to do it now. 

“Max has been up to his own devices for a while, and it’s been... oddly quiet.” Zeph says, while Will’s still concentrating. He shifts his tail around, trying to get comfortable. “Should I be worried?”

Surely a human suitor wouldn’t be worrying about their… ‘intended.’ They never do that in the stories. But Zeph’s scales itch in the way that tell him _something_ is going wrong, and that instinct has always been right.

Max almost always hurries back to Zeph, whenever something exciting happens to him. And in familiar territory? In his home?

Hell, Max couldn’t keep his mouth shut about the details of his household for even five minutes at a time, and that was before they arrived.  He’d want to share _everything_ around here, right down to their fanciest teapots.

But they arrived almost an hour ago, and Zeph has heard _nothing_.

Will smiles. “I’m glad you’re concerned for Max’s safety. Someone should look out for him. But here,” He reaches for his next piece. “Max is perfectly safe.”

Somewhere, a bell rings.

Will’s smile falters, the bishop dangling between his fingers.

The bell rings again. Then a third time. A fourth.

The piece Will was holding drops out of his hand. And he sighs, with deep, exhausted feeling, dragging his hands over his face.

The servants have been bustling around in the background, but now the crowd of them churns even further. Will stands up, gripping the back of his chair, looking around at the chaos.

To Zeph, it’s entirely chaos - but Will must find some sense in it, because his back straightens.

Will clears his throat.  “You may have a point, Zephyrus.” The smile returns, wry this time, as he turns to look at Zeph. His head shakes, a little disbelieving, a little interested. “How long have you known Max?”

“Longer than I expected to.” Zeph says.

Will sighs, a little rueful. “Long enough to predict him.” He mutters, though his smile remains. “Excuse me.”

Will heads forward with purpose, pushing past servants,  heading down  a hallway.

Zeph hesitates - but Will knows where he’s going, and it’s towards Max, Zeph can smell it when he follows. Where Will goes, the trail of his human grows stronger.

It’s a bit of a journey. And strange. Because where Will has to carefully dodge around servants, leading the way, meters ahead, Zeph has plenty of space. _Every_ servant backs up for him. They almost smack themselves against the walls to give him right of way. It’s surprisingly polite.

Will finally slows, and stops, right in front of a heavy wooden door. Sighs heavily, before pushing it open. It leads to the outside, fresh air and sun flood over them. Zeph breathes in sharply - that’s Max, he’s there-

Zeph doesn’t wait for Will. He slithers silently through the doorway into the open air. He glances all around, searching.

It’s another courtyard, and Max is out here. Somewhere. He’s nowhere in sight, but his scent is strong. No hint of blood, which comes as one small relief. But it’s… mostly empty.

Stone walls surround the bare grass, the single path leading through it is small and only leads to another doorway. Zeph coils up, looking around.

Will trots past Zeph, heading forward into the yard… but where Max is, is a mystery.

“Max!” Will shouts. He stands, straight-backed and firm, looking at something in the sky. “Get _down_ from there.”

“Don’t worry, Will!” Max says cheerfully, voice ringing from high up. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid!”

Zeph jerks his gaze upwards.

Max is dangling from the top of a large, slim tower - a _belltower_ \- waving at his older brother. Far higher up than is safe. Twice as high up as the time he broke his leg, and Zeph is _not_ willing to repeat that ordeal.

“You’re not _eleven_ anymore. You can’t come back home only to break your neck playing games.” Will rubs at the bridge of his nose. “What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to see if I could still do it.” Max says, voice normal. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, to dangle from an absurdly high place, and to not even use the inside of the building to get there. He hauls himself up - gives the rope of the bell another shake, and grins as it rings. “Hey! Looks like I can.”

Will looks like a man on the verge of having the largest headache in the world. He stares blankly upward at Max, rubbing at his temples.

“ _Please_ come down. I don’t want to explain to Mother how you came back alive, and _then_ ended up a corpse.”

Max snorts - but he nods, and gives his brother a wave. “Alright, fine.” And starts climbing back down-

The _outside_ of the tower.

“Max,” Will says, stern. “There _is_ a ladder-”

“Oh, come on! I’ve done this a million times!” says Max, and he waves - He swings out from the edge of the tower precariously - his fingers slip, just a little, he grabs for the edge with his other hand. He catches himself, starts laughing, amused at his mistake.

And that?

That is _enough_.

Zeph slithers past Will, fast, ignores the startled noise he makes, and rests a hand against the belltower. Watching his stupid, adorable human swaying in the air.

What was Max _thinking_? This is ridiculous.

Thankfully the belltower isn’t too wide, and the stone is rough. Best of all, it tapers as it rises. All of that makes it easier to grip, especially with a long, strong tail.

Zeph meets Max near the top. Glaring. His tail clamped tight around the outside of this stupid, entirely human tower, his arms holding onto the stones.

It’s far too high, it’s dangerous, why didn’t Max climb down from the _inside_.

“Zeph!” Max looks pleased to see Zeph there, and genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know you could climb so well!” He looks so impressed it’d be warming.

If it weren’t for everything else.

Zeph looks down the tower - wraps his tail against it tighter. It’s safe for a naga, who can hold on to it, and around it. It’s not at _all_ safe for a human.

“Your brother’s right.” says Zeph. He gives Max a nudge upwards, urging, his hand under Max’s elbow. “Climb up. Use the ladder.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Max spreads his free arm wide. He chuckles when Zeph winces, pats his arm. Max climbs down a few more feet, giving Zeph a wink. “I told you, I’ve done this a million times.”

Max always smiles. It’s a constant. It’s the only thing certain about him - the sky is blue, water is wet, and Max is happy, even as he clambers down the stones. Going two, then four feet lower.

 _Six_ feet further down -

The smile falls off Max’s face as his foot slips. He scrambles for a grip, his nails scrape the stone, he drops.

A second later, and _eight_ feet further down -

Zeph is swearing in his own language as his underbelly drags against the rough stones of the tower. His arms straining as he tries to keep a grasp on his human.

The stone scrapes his underbelly, he’s dragged down another foot or so. Nothing hurts -  but his arms are tight and taut, holding his ridiculous human mate up with his arms. After the initial shock of catching Max’s weight, Zeph’s grip on the tower steadies, holding them both in place.

For the first time in a very long time, Zeph is glad that his striking reflexes are so sharp.

He tries not to use them on humans - but Max, with the trouble he gets into? He’s an exception.

Zeph takes several slow, calming breaths, hooking Max’s arms up to rest in his elbows. He spends several more seconds to simply be annoyed.

This is Max. This is what he does. Trouble and danger - Max runs right into those, without a second thought.

By all rights Zephyrus should be asleep, or eating something right now, warm, and comfortable. Safe, and alone.

Instead, he made friends with this frankly absurd human. Spent time with him. Never stopped spending time with him. Hours and hours, and days and _weeks_  spent with this human, who kept visiting, and bringing gifts, and being good company, until Zeph got attached. And couldn’t let go.

Sheer ridiculousness is what he's signed up for. Maybe Zeph  _could_ have escaped - but like the most insidious kind of trap - he never wanted to.

Zeph looks down at his human with a frown, even as Max dangles in his arms.

Max is looking back at him, eyes wide. So wide they catch the light. His mouth is slightly parted in surprise, and slowly, inevitably, turns into a wide and adoring grin.

He looks at Zeph like he hung the moon in the sky.

Like Zeph is _incredible_ , in a way that truly, he doesn't deserve.

Zeph swallows. His mouth feels dry.

He wants to-

Only _Will_ is right here, in the courtyard. Zeph heard him shout something when Max almost fell.

Zeph sighs, and very carefully, and slowly, slides them back down the tower.

Max helps. Only in that he holds on tight, arms wrapped around Zeph's shoulders. Laughing into his neck. It leaves one of Zeph’s arms free to grab the tower, for safety, and another to hold Max’s waist. Also for safety. He couldn’t let Max fall a _second_ time. That would be irresponsible.

When Max’s feet finally touch solid ground again, Will is already at the base of the belltower. He rubs at his temples, takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Zephyrus? Thank you.” Will’s grateful, even pleased. He's rubbing one hand against his temple still but. That's a smile.

Maybe that’s _approval._  Which is what Zeph needs to win this adventure - but he can’t be certain.

Will turns towards his brother, looking at Max like he’s rolled around in something unpleasant. “ _You_.”

“What?” asks Max. His arms are still draped over Zeph’s shoulders. He’s beaming like it’s the best day ever. Like falling _forty feet_ would have been another adventure. “Everything’s fine. I’m okay!”

“You can’t-”

“No, really. Zeph’s here! I’m safe from anything,” says Max. He lets go of Zeph’s shoulders, rocks back on his heels. “Watch this.” He says -

And falls backwards, arms spread, without even a single move to stop it.

Zeph has to grab his human a second time, before he falls back onto his stubborn human head, and breaks his stupid human neck.

Now Max is leaning back at an impossible to sustain angle, almost parallel to the ground. The only thing holding him up is Zeph, staring awkwardly down at the ground, and Max’s grinning face. Max has one leg bent at the knee, and the other kicked up. Like it’s supposed to be dramatic.  

Max is beaming.

This is incredibly stupid.

“What are you doing?” Zeph hisses, frowning. This isn’t at all appropriate, not here, not _now_ , even if it’s very, horribly tempting.

“You _saved_ me, again.” Max says, amusement clear in his voice. He wraps his arms around Zeph’s neck. “My hero.”

“What?” Zeph repeats.

Oh no, Max can’t be doing this, not now. In private, Zeph might indulge, because he can see how it's funny, but -

“Erm,” Will says, sounding supremely awkward. “Max?" He clears his throat. "Life-debts mean that the, uh, Person. Wants to keep you alive. _Not_ that you’re... Involv- _Max_." He interjects, suddenly.

Because Max is closing in, eyes shut. Using his grip on Zeph to either pull him down, or himself closer, Zeph can’t tell.

Max’s lips part, slightly. Those arms around Zeph are tight and warm.

Zeph watches all this happen, and his mouth feels dry. In the background there's a voice.  But Max is soft and pleasant in his arms. Warm. Close, and closing in-

If this is how Will finds out, then.

Maybe that would be-

The door that Will and Zeph came through slams into the outside wall with a loud thud.

“ _Maximillian Richards._ ”

The voice cuts through everything, ringing in the air.

All three beings in the courtyard straighten up.

“Oh no,” Max says. He stands on his own feet, covers his face in his hands.

Nearby, Will straightens his clothing and his hair. He clears his throat, and gives Max a sympathetic look

Zeph’s surprised at their responses. He’s even more surprised to find himself risen fully upright.

That voice rang out with sheer, unquestionable authority. But nobody’s in charge of everything. Zeph’s the leader of all nagas, on a technicality, and he’s _never_ managed that kind of command.

He looks at his hands, then over at Max, and at Will. Zeph has heard something like this voice before, it's important. He tries to place it.

In the doorway, a short, slim, and rather old human woman stands, looking furious. Her dress is black and elegant - and her face holds an ocean of disapproval.

She starts tapping her foot against the ground, eyes narrowed.

“Max,” She says, tone calm. “ _Where_ have you _been_.”

“Hi, Mom!” Max gives his most bright and charming smile, spreading his arms wide for a hug. He starts walking towards her. “It’s good to see you!”

Zeph realizes.

There wasn’t some kind of compulsion about those words. It had no magic. He knows why he’s already familiar with it.

He remembers _his own_ mother, and _that kind of voice._ Apparently, it’s not unique to nagas. It simply comes from _experience_.

Max’s mother storms in, dress wafting behind her. Her face as dark and furious as an oncoming thunderstorm.

Max pauses in his approach, then immediately starts backpedaling. He stands right in front of Zeph, almost pressed against him.

His mother strides in close, grabs him by the ear, and pulls him down to meet her eye-to-eye.

Max winces, though he’s still smiling. “What, no hug?”

“Don’t you try and distract _me_ , young man.” Her foot taps against the ground. “You are in _deep_ trouble.”

“I. Uh,” starts Max. He hesitates. Twists to look at Zeph and Will, smiling with hope.

Zeph has already slid a few feet away. Will’s taking a few steps back himself.

“You haven’t written in ages. You kept it up for so long,” Max’s mother says, stern and glaring. “Then out of the blue, you stopped  _completely_. How could you?"

"Well-" Max starts.

"Well, you say. Well." Her glare darkens. "Well. What’s a mother _supposed_ to think?” She looks at Max with displeasure. Max cringes. “You _know_ how most adventurers end up.”

“I know, I know. But Mom-”

“Don’t you ‘but Mom’ me. You have a _lot_ to answer for.” She glares, and rests her free hand on her hip. “For _example-_ ”

Max’s mother starts a full-on lecture, holding him to attention - pulling him back down when he protests.

Max leans forward and accepts his fate. Nodding at the appropriate parts, starting to speak up - then grimacing, not finding an excuse.

Zeph would almost feel bad about this.

But Max never _did_ write. Or tell his family anything. He never told _Zeph_ everything, either. Not because he was hiding, or that he thought he needed to hide anything. There’s no secrets, no subterfuge. Max doesn’t have that in him.

Zeph knows it. He’s experienced it. Max is, as simple as it gets, absentminded.

For all that he quite innocently _forgot_ the details, never meant to surprise anyone - Some scolding seems fair, for Max letting his mother think he might be  _dead_.

The mother draws herself up, shoulders straight, finishing her lecture. “ - and _no_ magical sign of you. For this _entire time_ .” Her voice is firm, decisively angry. “What did you _do_?”

Max looks bewildered. “Nothing! I didn’t-”

She clears her throat, and Max quiets down, confused. He really _doesn’t_ know how that could have happened, doesn’t know where it came from -

And Zeph squirms in place.

It made perfect sense at the time. It meant nobody could follow Max back to Zeph’s den. Plus, Max would be safe from anyone trying to track him. Anything trying to sniff around for his soul would lose the trail. In Max’s line of work, that’s a benefit. It’s _protection ,_   a solid one at that. Max _agreed_ to it, eagerly, he doesn't understand magic, but he liked the idea. All things considered, veiling Max was great, on all levels.

Only half the reason Max is in trouble... is _Zeph’s_ fault.

If that's how his mother tried to track him, she's possibly a little magical. And with the veiling, it's a logical step for her to think that Max was  _almost certainly_ dead _._

Will steps in, clears his throat. Then, seeing it hasn’t had the right effect - repeats it, louder. “Mother?” He pitches his voice to catch attention. "We do have a _guest_.”

Max’s mother lets go of Max’s ear, and turns. She looks up at Zeph.

It’s clearly the first time she’s noticed the huge naga in front of her. That’s strange on its own. Like Zeph didn’t merit notice, even with. Everything.

“Oh,” She says, with something not quite embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.” Max’s mother presses a hand to her chest. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

“Hello,” Zeph says, for lack of anything better to say. He raises a hand in greeting.

Max’s mother raises an eyebrow. Then the other one goes up, suddenly surprised.

Now that she’s noticed him - he can see her noticing all the ways he’s weird for a naga, and there are _plenty_. He can almost see every time she notices the individual parts. Huge, first, weird pattern, next, and then human friendly and... whatever else humans think are strange for nagas.

“And you are?” She asks, tilting her head. The words trail off.

“Zephyrus.”

She nods in acknowledgement, face neutral. She tucks part of her black hair behind her ear. The long strands of it are heavily streaked with grey. And when their eyes meet -

A sharp shock trails down Zeph’s spine, and he has plenty of vertebrae to spare.

Yes. _Definitely_ magical.

Zeph should have noticed earlier, but he wasn’t expecting this. Finding another magic user, especially in a human city, seemed unlikely. A _strong_ human magic user is a rarity on its own.

One related to _Max_ is downright _absurd_.

“I cast the spell that veiled him.” Zeph adds. There’s no good way to explain himself, but it’s better than not explaining. “I’m the reason you couldn’t find him.”

There’s no use in denying it. Between Zeph, being here, right in front of her. Their eyes meeting. His spell, written all over her son, where the style is unmistakable. She can see it as clearly as Zeph can, in the senses that normal beings don’t have.

She cocks her head, glancing at Max. Zeph can’t read her face now.

“You cast something like that.” Her words come out delicately. “On my son.”

Zeph has heard Max say this a thousand times, and he hates that he’s saying it, too. He shifts in place. “It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Only it _was_ a good idea at the time. Nobody could have guessed that Max wasn't in contact with what family he had. Or that he had any magical family. Or. Any of this, at all.

The corner of the mother’s mouth twitches downward. “I see.” Her tone is disapproving.

Zeph’s first language isn’t human, but. That even sounded _condescending_.

Fine. _Max_ might not be the brightest candle in the batch. He’s very sweet, but he doesn’t always have the best judgement, or the best memory.

 _Zephyrus_ knows what he’s doing.

He’s in charge of his entire valley. It’s under a very loose grip, but it’s still _his_. And he can face down one - admittedly disconcerting - old female human, because he is _absolutely_ in the right, and he can back it up in spades.

Zeph slides up further, rising to be taller than Max, or Will. It makes him vastly taller than their mother.

If she knows magic, even a little, she should _know_ he made a good choice.

“It kept him safer.” Zeph folds his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Will take a step back. Max is frozen in place, almost alarmed - and Max’s mother simply looks at him with interest. “He has a dangerous profession.”

“He does." She raises an eyebrow. "And you felt you should  _bespell_ him.”

Zeph starts bringing his tail underneath himself further, in a tight coil. He leans in, arms crossed tightly. "I am  _not_ going to apologize for _protecting him_.”

Only... This is wrong.

 _Humans_ don’t do this, and he needs to be impressive to Max’s family. Be full-on human friendly. He can’t _strongarm_ here. Humans _hate_ that, he needs to _stop_.

Zeph loosens his coils, and flops awkwardly back down on his underbelly, undignified. Coughs into his fist, buying some time to think.

He should know what to do. Something that’s not making himself big or threatening, that’s not how humans work. Zeph doesn’t know what’s polite, not when you’ve already pulled something _extremely_ rude.

But he is certain that humans like truth, and he doesn’t know enough about them to lie right, anyway.

“The spell keeps Max safe. If even _you_ couldn't track him, I did my job right.” Zeph says. 

The mother doesn’t respond. She’s still looking at him, face neutral. Even knowing his magic, having seen his mass, she hasn’t flinched. Hell, she’s barely even blinked.

Zeph continues. “I won't dispel it, but. I _might_ apologize. I intended to hide Max from enemies, but not from _you_ , Mrs.” He hesitates - what’s the term of address -  heads forward anyway. “Mrs. Max’s mother.”

There’s a short pause.

Max’s mother lets out sudden, undignified snort - then a sharp burst of laugher.  There’s a smile, too, which she tries to cover with one hand. She meets Zeph’s eyes again.

Part of her must be in Max, because now it looks she’s seen something new, and strange, and it's made her curious.

“Mom?” Max asks. He emerges from where he was tucking himself against Zeph’s side. He reaches out, takes one of his mother’s hands.

His mother turns towards him, forcing her smile away. “Yes, dear?”

“I’m really sorry about not writing. But I’ve been hanging out with Zeph, and there were adventures, and I got busy, and.” He shrugs, kind of helplessly. “I kinda. _Forgot_ to write.”

His mother glances at Zeph again, in an intense way that makes him want to curl up.

Then she sighs, and smiles.

“I know you’re absentminded, dear.” Max leans in for a hug - and she smacks him very lightly on the cheek. “But you do _not_ get a second pass on seeming dead, child. Keep that in mind.”

Max shrugs that off. He’s grinning now. “I promise I’ll let you know if I die.”

“And if you die,” She says, pressing a hand against Max’s chest. “I will _raise your unliving corpse_  to give you what for, you reckless fool.”

“I know, I know.” Max is _laughing_ , weirdly enough. “I love you too.”

Zeph watches Max hug his mother finally, after those few, unsuccessful attempts. Sees how Will takes this in, and sighs in relief.

Nobody here seems to realize how completely bizarre this entire thing has been.

Up to and _including_ the fact that Zeph is here. That they can go through all of this, while the monster in their midst is only an afterthought.

There are two possible options. Either Zeph has gotten completely the wrong idea about human families - or Max’s family is very, very strange.

Zeph thinks the odds are tilted towards the latter.

“Zephyrus,” Max’s mother says. He startles to attention. “It’s lovely to have you as a guest.”  She’s still smiling, drawn away from Max’s hug, smoothing out her dress. “Of course you’ll join us for dinner tonight.”

“I-” Zeph starts, then looks over at Max.

Max is beaming with delight - but it’s already clear that Max isn’t, necessarily the best judge of other humans. Zeph can’t be sure accepting is the right thing to do.

He looks over at Will instead.

WIll gives him a quick nod. And even a slight smile.

Of the four humans in Max’s family. At least Zeph could be sure he’d won over one. Max was _always_ going to be on his side.

Now _Will’s_ on Zeph’s side too. If only because he stopped Max from breaking any more bones while he was back home.

Zeph can take this one part at a time. The father’s an unknown factor, but this is exactly like the adventures Max tells him about. They come in stages.

This is stage three. The _mother_ is inviting him into her personal trial, and Zeph can do this one better than any other.

Zeph leans down, taking up Max’s mother’s hand. He doesn’t _kiss_ it, that’s inappropriate according to everything he’s read - just presses his lips against the thumb he tucks over the back of her hand.

“I’d be delighted,” He adds, once he’s straightened back up. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Will looks approving, though somewhat surprised. Max looks proud of Zeph, back straight and grinning, giving him a double thumbs up. Happy that Zeph learned human manners, and pulled them off at the critical moment.

Until their mother starts chuckling, clasping a hand over her face again. “You’ve done _research_.” She sets her hands on her hips. “That’s unusual for your kind.”

“I’ve read some things.” Zeph admits. ”Especially since Max said we were… visiting family. Here.”

Max’s mother nods. She tilts her head to one side, thinking, then -

“You are _quite_ the odd naga.” She pats Zeph on the hand, with a slow smile. “We should talk after dinner.”

Five innocent, innocuous words.

They really shouldn’t send a shudder down Zeph’s spine. He shrugs it off, shaking his head.

Then Max’s mother turns to Max, patting him on the cheek. “And _you_. Go wash up before dinner. You smell like a traveler.”

‘Yes, mom.” Max says, rolling his eyes. “I will.”

“And change into something nicer,” She gives a significant glance over at Zeph. “We have company. Make a good impression.”

Max turns between Zeph and his mother, confused. “But I’ve known him for _ages_ -”

His mother gives him a look.

Max shuts up.

“Honestly, I don’t know how Zephyrus puts up with you,” Max’s mother says, shaking her head. “Go wash up.”

“Yes, I _get_ it, I’m _going_ ,” Max sighs, and grabs onto Zeph’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Zeph casts a glance behind them as he slides behind Max, watching Max’s mother.  

But she’s not paying attention to him. She and Will are wrapped up in a deep, quiet conversation.

Will glances over at Zeph, with something like - Is that concern? Zeph must be misreading it. He’s _proven_ he’ll protect Max, against anything. Will saw it himself.

Zeph tries to get a better look, to try and catch parts of the mother and Will’s talk -  but he’s dragged into the doorway and around the corner before he can get much of anything.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Zeph,” Max says, after they’ve gotten into the hallway. He claps his hands over his head, looking… weirdly distressed. “I really wanted you to meet Dad before Mom. He’s way more easygoing.”

Zeph shrugs. “She seemed nice.”

She had her fair share of intimidating parts, and Zeph can respect her power - but at least she doesn’t make people into _tapestries_. The woman _giggles,_ after all. That’s not the sign of someone dangerous.

Max laughs, turning towards him with a huge, bright grin. He clasps Zeph's hand in both his own, and raises it up to kiss the knuckles. “Zeph? You did great.”

That’s an exaggeration if Zeph’s ever heard one. At best he’s being _tolerated_ , and even that’s a stretch. “No. Wait. I-”

Zeph doesn’t want to mention that dumb posturing, but. Max isn’t always the most observant. Maybe he didn’t notice.

“No, really! Being so big, and strong, and challenging.” Max flexes his arms, imitating Zeph’s intimidation - why is he _still smiling_ \-  “You actually _impressed_ her.” Max’s grin is huge, and hugely proud. “I knew you were brave, and awesome.” He winks. “But you went ahead and _proved_ it, straight up.”

“What?” Zeph mostly feels like a brainless idiot, for making such a dumb _naga_ gesture at _Max’s mother,_ of all people. “She’s. Fine with me, then.”

“Fine? _Fine_? You’re amazing! She likes you! She didn’t turn you into a frog or anything.” Max continues, clapping his hands together in delight. “That’s better than most of _Will’s_ girlfriends.”

“What.” Zeph repeats.

“Anyway, I really do need a bath. It’s been a while. Oh! And I really wanna show you my room!” Max says. He grabs onto Zeph again, heading onward.

Zeph slides over the stone in the hallway, clinging tight to Max’s hand. As Max hums something cheerful to himself, trotting eagerly forward -

Zeph takes a deep, steadying breath. Then another.

The average adventurer has to worry about pit traps. Or swinging blades. Or boulders tumbling towards them, ready to squish anyone foolish enough to pick up the treasure that trips the switch. Zeph thinks he might have dodged something like that, without even knowing it was there.

It’s. A little exhilarating. This is probably how Max feels when it happens to him - Except Max never worries about other consequences.

Zeph’s going to let himself assume whatever the mother and brother were talking about wasn’t ‘how to exterminate a snake’, with the possible addendum of ‘without Max noticing.’ Max is a decent barometer for humans - if taken with a grain of salt - and he thinks things are fine.

Zeph will work from the idea that things are, so far, going about as well as they can.

“Here we are,” Max says, pushing open another door. “C’mon in, oh man-’ He lets Zeph go, only to charge into the room. “I should have come back sooner! Look, everything’s still here!”

Zeph slithers in after him, into this room that smells - slightly musty, clearly unused for years, but clean - and completely like Max. It’s absolutely full of-

“So!” Max asks. He hops up onto a huge bed, and spreads his arms wide. “What do you think?”

“Swords,” Zeph says, for lack of anything intelligent to say.

“All my old ones, man, I haven't seen these in forever,” Max says fondly. He was standing on his bed, bouncing slightly, but now he hops off, taking one of what seems like _hundreds_ from the wall. He runs a finger down the edge of it, winces, and smiles as he rubs his finger and thumb together. “Ha! They’re even still sharp.”

Zeph slides in further, keeping himself away from the walls. He wonders how finely minced someone would end up if they were dragged against them.

The entire room is cluttered with not only weapons, but armor pieces, too small to fit Max anymore. Zeph trails his fingers over a small bookshelf, filled with adventure novels. Then onto a desk smaller than would fit Max, these days. Then onto -

A rough stone altar, ancient as anything. A remnant of an old, lost god - clearly dragged in from one of Max’s youthful adventures - the trailing brown of blood sacrifices still stains the stones.

It’s covered in small figures of famous adventurers, posed in mock battle. Zeph gently places the fallen head of one of them back onto its pewter shoulders.

“Anyway, I gotta get washed. Make yourself at home,” Max adds, hanging his old sword back up with a grin. “What’s mine is yours!”

Zeph hesitates.

Is that appropriate?  He’s had an invitation,  but-

“Zeph,” Max says, voice is full of amusement. He saw Zeph hesitate. Max raises an eyebrow as he strips his shirt off. “I”ve been staying in _your_ place for a year and a bit.” He spreads his arms again, throwing the shirt away carelessly. It knocks over another small figure on another table. “Mess with anything of mind that you want! And if you wanna nap, my bed’s pretty great.”

It is, too. Zeph presses his palm against the clean, newly-changed blankets, feels the give of the mattress. Max stalks off into an adjoining room, casting away his belt carelessly. Zeph concentrates on the bed, frowning.

More than large enough for one person. Likely, that’s because nobles have money, and can buy the best.

It’s just about large enough for one naga who’s Zeph’s size, but barely. He lifts the blanket, taking a closer look.

The servants could bring another blanket of this size. Zeph isn’t sure how to ask them for it - but it’d make the stone floor more comfortable, because sure as hell Zeph can’t lie here. If he did... Max would have to sleep in Zeph’s coils, instead of on his own mattress.

And that’d be-

That’s.

Zeph lets the blankets drop, realizing.

That's what Max has been doing for more than a year. Voluntarily.

Unfortunate as it is, Zeph is on an _adventure. A_ nd adventurers take _risks_.

This isn’t much of one, but he doesn’t have it in him to take anything bigger. Zeph’s not made for this, like Max is.

Zeph slithers into the bed, and without any hesitation, takes up the _entire mattress_. It’s comfortable, and warm. The blanket is nice, too. And he is _not_ going to leave, and abandon this comfortable space. Unless Max asks him to. He settles in, and resolves to relax.

Maybe half an hour later, Zeph hears Max humming happily to himself. The slow rubbing of cloth against a body, and the strong scent of steam, and water, and Max.

Zeph can’t see it, though. The blanket blocks his vision.

Even half an hour later, he doesn't feel very relaxed.

“Zeph?” Max asks. He sounds amused. His damp feet make a distinct sound on the bare stone of his bedroom. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m resting,” Zeph mutters. “It’s fine.”

“We gotta get going to dinner soon.” Max sounds amused. He tugs up the corner of the blanket - Zeph slaps it back down from inside, but Max gets a better grip, and _tugs_ \- “C’mon, you slug, get up!”

The blanket’s flung away, and Zeph stays where he is. Stays silent. Tightens slightly, and involuntarily. He can't force himself to relax any more now than he had in the last thirty minutes.

“Oh.” Max says. He sits down on the edge of the bed. He’s naked except for a towel on his shoulders, and rests a hand on part of Zeph's tail. “Oh, Zeph. I'm sorry.”

Zeph grunts. Struggles with himself for a second - several seconds - once he’s wrapped around himself it takes a while to unwind.

He eventually manages to stop balling up like he’s some kind of newhatched nervous _idiot_ , and sprawls out on the mattress. His tail dangles off the end of the bed, and _that_ part he can let twitch, without Max seeing.

“I’m fine.” Zeph holds his hands up. He can even try and smile. “Everything’s-”

He loses a little bit of breath, when Max collides with him in a tight hug. Warm hands run down Zeph’s back, he feels his arms drop.

“Sorry,” Max repeats, and sits back upright. His smile isn’t enthusiastic this time. It’s gentler. And fond. “Don’t worry! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yes. I know. I'm not _worri_ -” Zeph doesn’t get a chance to finish, because

Max closes in, smiling, and gives Zeph a quick kiss. Only a peck, an affectionate one.

He pulls back, and squeezes Zeph’s hand in both his own. “I know this is super weird for you. And. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable. And smelly? Maybe? I hope it’s not too bad. And. Uh.” He tenses slightly. “I know my family is kinda… different.”

 _That’s_ an understatement. Frogs, and lords, and tapestries, and whatever is going on with their monster servants. Zeph hasn’t encountered a lot of humans, but they're so far from normal even _Max_ knows it. His family are such outliers that they’re beyond any charted maps.

“Thanks, Zeph.” Max says finally. He pecks Zeph on the cheek, only to give a huge, happy smile. He holds Zeph’s hand, squeezing it again. “For coming home with me.”

Zeph gives Max’s hand a quick squeeze in return. He isn’t sure what to say.

This was important to Max, and dangerous for Zeph. He was taking a risk. A huge one. It’s still a risk, he has no idea what he’s doing.

But so far it’s working out

This family adventure might be possible. Hell, survivable, even if Max’s family _does_ figure out that he and Max are actually...

What they are.

They’ve never talked about. What they’re doing. What it means. And Zeph’s alright with that. If it never gets brought up, then maybe, if Zeph’s lucky, and Max stays absentminded - it might mean this could last. Maybe Max will forget to talk about it _forever_ , and then that’s how long he’ll stay.

Right now, there’s a _dinner invitation_ , and that’s the one bright spot in this hideous situation. Food, in vast quantities, which has no downside _whatsoever_.

If Zeph can evade any further traps. And there _will_ be traps.

Max’s mother seems like the type to make them, just to test her child's partner, Zeph can tell. The idea that the dinner won’t come with any is like Zeph not having scales - impossible.

In a strange way, Zeph’s looking forward to it. They’ll almost _certainly_ be magical, and that is one single area where he _knows_ he’s great. It’s another chance to be _impressive_.

“Hey,” Max says, getting his attention again. He’s smiling, and leans in to give Zeph another kiss. “You’re great.”

Zeph's too distracted to come up with something smart to say. Max always does this to him. So he simply says, “No, you are.”And kisses him back.

Two of the family down, and two to go. The next trial should go smoothly. If Zeph doesn't slip, and he isn’t turned into either a tapestry or a frog -

Then this adventure might turn out alright, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Zeph doesn’t know when he grew used to having a human in his den.

The process was so slow, gradual, that he barely noticed until it was already a fact. It's taken this journey for him to realize how deep it ran.

Even now, as far from his den as he ever has been.  Surrounded by unfamiliar scents, and noises, and completely outside his territory. Max still reminds Zeph of home. Almost enough to relax.

Not quite enough, but almost.

The other humans - and especially the other monsters  - _smell_ , and they make noise, there are footsteps on stone. They’re everywhere, spread around this castle. Zeph buries his face into Max’s hair. Breathes in slowly, then out.

Max curls up close, nudges into Zeph’s neck, and sighs with deep contentment. He turns in Zeph’s grip. He sits up, resting his hands on Zeph’s shoulders with a wicked grin. “Hey.” He waggles his eyebrows, and draws his hands downwards, over Zeph’s chest, and lower- “Nobody will mind if we’re a little late for dinner.”

Zeph catches Max’s hands before they can reach his scales. “That’s not a good idea.”

Max moves his hands away, but kisses Zeph again. “We could fool around a _little_.”

“And I’m a little _stressed_. ” There’s no way he could get anything past his scales for that. Not here, not now.

“Oh.” Max says. “Sorry.” He presses a kiss to Zeph’s cheek, and wraps around him again. “This is great, too.”

Zeph wraps an arm around Max’s shoulders. Takes a deep breath, and tries to be less tense.

“There’s still no hurry,” Max says, sounding eminently comfortable. He gets a kick out of petting Zeph’s scales, will easily spend an hour doing it, and he’s in the middle of it right now. “This is comfy, Mom doesn’t do many curses these days, and Dad takes a few drinks before he gets rowdy.”

Zeph stares up at the ceiling.

Curses, he thinks. Max’s mother does those, and Max isn’t even denying it. Zeph could tell she was magical. This is...

“Rowdy,” He says. The mother isn’t the only threat here, and not the major one. “In what way.”

“Well, Dad likes a good tussle,” Max says, face smushed against the skin of Zeph’s shoulder. “He’s a great guy! Just,” He shrugs slightly, curling closer. “He loves fighting! And who doesn’t?” Max adds, sitting up just enough to meet Zeph’s eyes - the grin drops, just a fraction. “I mean, _you_ don’t.”

“Oh.” Zeph says. He forces a smile onto his face. “I’m not going to be made into a tapestry, am I?” He asks. Of course he’s joking.

Mostly.

Max sits up fully, blinking. “What? No, it’s fine. Dad barely ever takes trophies like that anymore.”

“That’s good.” Zeph says. He starts squirming his tail out from underneath Max, with limited success. “When’s the next caravan out of here?”

“Three days from now. I didn’t plan on a lengthy visit, I figured you wouldn’t like the city.” Max says, sitting upright. He tilts his head. “Is something wrong?”

What's the point in hiding it? If _Max_ already knows something's wrong -

“I don’t think your father will like me.” He admits. There’s absolutely no reason he should. By human standards, it’s rational. Why _would_ some noble human want a naga anywhere near their family? Much less involved with their beloved son.

“What?” Max sounds surprised. “No, Zeph, he’s gonna think you’re great! Just let me introduce you.”

For a while, Zeph simply looks at his human. Maybe, technically, his mate. Max hasn’t been helpful on that front, they’ve never talked about it. Maybe they never will, and Zeph would be okay with that, except for. Everything else.

Max is looking at him with concern.

“I like my pelt where it is.” Zeph pulls his hands back. “There’s a naga skin on display in the hallway.”

“Oh.” Max looks surprised, for a beat or two. Then his face grows serious. “Zephyrus?” He gets up off the bed. He’s naked, and ridiculous, but his face is no longer smiling, and that alone adds so much importance to him that

Zeph sits up as well, slightly surprised.

“I promise. I will straight-up swordfight my father before I let him pin your pelt on the wall.” Max holds up an arm, determined, and clenches his fist. And he grins wide. “I’ll protect you.”

Whatever else can be said about Max, he’s a remarkable swordsman, and he has survived more than he has any right to. He’s talented, strong, and daring.

Occasionally, he can be _incredibly foolish_.

“That’s not what I meant,” Zeph says, through gritted teeth. Max has misunderstood, again - Zeph’s face feels hot, though not unpleasantly. “The last thing I need is _protecting_.”

“But you said-”

“I meant I don’t want to _harm_ your father. I don’t want him to hurt me, either,” Zeph says. He nudges Max under the chin, makes him meet his eyes. Starting a family fight isn’t what he wanted here, but at the same time - “But if I have to protect myself, I will.”

Zeph’s never crushed a human before, but it can’t be _that_ hard to make it both debilitating _and_ non-lethal.

“That won’t happen,” Max says, firm. He’s not _quite_ smiling, which is so unusual Zeph takes it seriously. “Okay?”

Zeph nods, feeling...

He’s not certain.

“Great!” Max beams, then swears. “Oh, damn, I need clothes.” He scrambles off to gather some, fumbling around his room.

Zeph’s sure he could fight Max’s father, if it came to that. He’s been mentally preparing for it. Max interfering before he ever _has_ to? That’s the best case scenario. Max always keeps his word.

This could be fine.

While he wasn’t looking, Max has redressed. Zeph gets a fraction of a second to notice the actual, legitimately noble clothing before Max interrupts.

“Dinnertime, Zeph! And Dad’s going to love you, so stop worrying.” He beams at him, bright as ever. “Trophies will never even come up.” He holds out a hand, ready to help Zeph off the bed. Bringing him towards the coming challenge.

If nothing else, Zeph has Max in his corner. He takes the hand.

He doesn’t  _technically_  resist being dragged off the bed.

He simply lies on the sheets, holding Max’s hands - while Max leans backward, taking another step back whenever he gets another foot or so of Zeph off the mattress.  Max yanks on Zeph’s arms, grunting with effort. His feet slip on the floor again, he digs in his heels, and _pulls_.

“Get _moving_ , you slug,” Max says, affectionately breathless. One last strong yank drags Zeph mostly off the bed. His underbelly smacks against the stone. “What’s wrong with dinner?”

The danger, for one. The family, for another. Following human politeness, and there’s something about ‘silverware’ that’s important, too. Whatever that is. Zeph will have to figure that bit out on the fly.

“Nothing,” Zeph says, and slides the last bit of his tail off the mattress. “Let’s go.”

Max drags him out the door, and through the hallway. This time, Zeph keeps pace, holding his hand. Once more unto the breach. More humans, more questions. Zeph isn’t looking forward to it.

But _this_ part of the adventure means he’ll get _fed_.

While they travel through the halls, the servants avoid them even more than before, if that’s even possible. Whether it’s because of Zeph, being who he is, or because of Max’s reckless charge forward, is up for grabs. Zeph’s betting it’s the former, because everyone dodges _Max_ easily enough.  Then a few feet later, they startle, and flail. More than a few of them trip over Zeph’s tail.

The doors to the dining hall burst open before them, as Max throws them open with both arms, beaming.

“Here we are!”

Zeph’s next breath in takes in so, so many tastes.

He follows Max in without any resistance. The table is longer than Zeph is, and there’s food on all of it.

A _feast_. The best part of this entire trip.

The double doors slap closed on the end of Zeph’s tail with an off-tone clap. He swears, and slithers in a circle back around, glaring.

“Maximillian!” A loud, deep voice shouts. There’s a clang, and a clatter of dishes as something thumps against the table. “Come and face me!”

Zeph yanks his tail out of the doors, hearing his human’s feet beating over the stone, as well as another, heavier set of steps, and reels around.

Max collides with a thud against a much older, larger man, and they grapple for position. The immediate wrestling match ensues. Max and this big, older human wrestle, and punch at each other - though always pulling the blow.

“Zephyrus,” Says Will, calm as anything. Zeph jerks his head towards him.

Will gestures to a spot at the table. He’s sitting on the opposite side,  He motions Zeph to a spot nearby, just across from him.

At the head of the table, in an elegant chair, sipping a glass of wine. Ignoring the - Zeph glances over - complete chaos that has traveled from one side of her, to just behind her, is Max’s mother. Her poise is completely uninterrupted by the fight going on.

“Have a -” Will pauses, glancing at the seating. He beckons a servant over, frowning. “Take the chair away, please.”

Zeph glances over at where Max and the person - who could no more obviously be his father - have now knocked over several candelabras. He slithers over to where the chair has thankfully been removed and settles into place, tail wrapped under himself. “This is normal. Isn’t it.”

Max’s mother snorts, and sips her wine. Her smile almost approaches fond, though she frowns when something else shatters in the background.

“Max and Father usually do this,” Will adds. He’s rubbing at his temple. “Pay it no mind.”

There’s a shout of triumph, and it comes from Max. There’s another, loud laugh. Something else shatters. Now that Zeph is certain of his assumption, he looks back up at the scene.

Max is brushing his hair back into something like normal, laughing. And coughs, as the older man claps him heartily on the back, beaming with a smile that’d be perfectly suited to Max’s face - if it weren’t for the huge, bushy beard.

Muscled. Cheerful. Enthusiastic to a fault, always ready for a fight or an adventure. No question where Max gets most of it from. Though Max must take after his _mother_ , in some ways, because he’s shorter, paler, and blessedly, much less hairy.

Max’s father carries a few pounds, and the hair’s dusted with grey, but his face, his hair. Aside from his build, and the beard, he’s a snapshot into the future, a few decades later in Max’s life.

Max punches his father on the chest, more in amusement than attack. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

“Not _too_ slow,” His father punches him right back. “Your old man isn’t out of the game just yet!” Even his _voice_ punctuates things like Max’s does.

“And what’s this!” Max’s father says, eyes locked suddenly onto Zeph’s. Damn it, he’s been noticed. “ _This_ is your guest?”

“Er, yes-” Max starts. He raises a hand. “But.” Another place where Max has some of his mother, because while he's being - slightly - cautious - the father has no reservations. At all.

“Uh,” Zeph manages, just before this large gruff human is suddenly right in his space with zero warning. He has to rear back to avoid colliding with him.

“By god. You’re a _big_ damn beast, aren’t you!” Max’s father slaps Zeph on the shoulder, looking up at him. His expression is hard to read, under all that face-fur. He does, after a moment, looking Zeph up and down - start to grin. “Welcome to my castle.”

Max’s mother clears her throat, very quietly.

“ _Our_ castle.” Max’s father amends without missing a beat. He prods Zeph on the chest. “What’s a snake like you doing so far out from your valley?”

“I-” Zeph watches Max scramble towards them, then pause. Not interrupting. He shrugs. Still smiling, but kind of helpless.

There are ways Zeph could lie, but those would be pointless. He answers honestly, instead. ”I followed Max here.”

“Damned interesting pattern,” Max’s father adds, ignoring what Zeph just said. He prods Zeph on his side. Maybe wondering about the aesthetics of Zeph’s black-white scales, and the merits thereof. “Haven’t seen one like this before.”

Max’s mother clears her throat again.

“Ah, what am I on about!” The father says, and slaps Zeph on the back in a friendly gesture that still smacks the breath out of his chest. The father heads to his place at the table. “Let’s have something to eat, eh?” He leans an elbow on the table, and gives a huge, unsubtle wink. “I know you beasts love your food.”

True. And honestly, something Zeph would rather concentrate on. He turns his attention to his plate - empty - looks up at the food - back down at his empty plate.

How does this work. There are manners in play here, and the books Zeph has are short on specifics.

“So,” The father says, slamming his fist against the table again, grinning hugely. “Max! What have you been up to?”

Max surges up to his place at the table, flops down in his seat, and grins. Bursting with enthusiasm about every temple he’s invaded, every bandit group he’s fought. This is his area of expertise, and he starts telling stories, with enthusiasm.

Servants circulate. Little portions of food, doled out in turns. All the humans here seem to accept being portioned out bits of food, they barely notice it. Zeph had been wondering, but now, dinner has started in earnest. They're not using their hands, picking it up with their -

Zeph holds a fork awkwardly in one hand, and the knife in the other. Rotates them around, getting a feel for them.

He looks at his plate, with its pile of meat and vegetables, with some thick liquid dripped over them. He pierces part, takes a bite. He shuts his eyes, sighing in content.

Humans may have flaws, but they _do_ know food.

The plate is suddenly empty. Zeph glares at it.

“Oh,” Max says, halfway through one of his stories. He reaches over to scoop some meat off a platter, obviously - and correctly - deciding that the servants are too slow. He dumps more meat on Zeph’s plate.  “Here, try this.”

Zeph hesitates. The servant didn’t do that. Max did. Is that proper manners? He thinks about it, comes up with nothing.

“Eat up, Zeph,” Max insists. He nudges his shoulder against Zeph’s. Even though the plate is piled far higher than his family’s - Max seems happy. “You’re the guest.”

Zeph isn’t _taking_. Max is _offering_ , and by what little Zeph knows it’d be rude to _not_ accept. Max even hands over bones when he’s done with something. Lets Zeph crack them open, suck out the marrow, just like back at home.

Zeph shrugs, and accepts it all. If nobody else is going to complain, why not enjoy himself.

Max does all the talking. And he can do that almost forever. Keeping up conversation with strangers is easy for him. Conversation with his family moves so smoothly that Zeph's presence is completely glided over.

Meanwhile, Zeph has tons of food, he can keep his mouth full, enjoy the meal, and be safely, happily ignored.

“Oh, wait,” Max says, in the middle of the story where he fought the band of harpies. He leans over the table and snags a plate of some pink and white triangle out from under a servant’s hands. “Try this, too.”

He offers the plate to Zeph with both hands. His smile is very wide, even for Max.

Zeph frowns, but manages to use the fork correctly this time, he’s had some practice at this point. He pierces the weirdly pastel, gooey thing, gives it a quick, critical glare, and takes a bite.

His coils loosen.

The weird pink thing tastes like _heaven_.

The family conversation continues, and Zeph is happy to let it pass him by. He licks at the fork. Spears a few more of the small delights on his plate, stuffs them into his mouth. This was worth every bit of the journey to get here. Feasts are _amazing_.

“-Not too far a journey to the other crypt,” says Max’s father. He’s continuing off something Max has said. “Did you go look for the lost amulet?”

“Well, I guess I could have,” Max says, slightly hesitant. He pokes at his food, and Zeph hears him shift in his seat. “But that’d be an extra six weeks travel. I couldn’t do _that_.”

Booming laughter of Max’s father makes Zeph blink. Will has been giving Zeph a very strange look, for some time. Zeph meets his eyes, frowns, and swallows the thighbone he’s been idly gnawing on. Will’s eyebrow goes up further.

“What’s a couple months?” The father looks amused, elbow leaning on the table. He slams down his tankard of ale. “That’s hardly any time at all!”

“Well,” Max says, and stops. He taps his fingers together. His face is slightly red. “It is, I know, I just… uh. I couldn’t. Not. Reasonably.”

His father stares in confusion. Will turns his disturbed face towards Max, instead of Zeph. During all of this, Max’s mother remains unreadable.

“The first temple was bad enough, honestly,” Max says. He smiles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Two weeks to get there, that makes a whole month! Another three, each way?” He laughs, waving the idea off. “I couldn’t roam _that_ far.”

Max’s father sits back in his seat like he was struck by an arrow, and stares. Will is silent. He looks at his father, then at Max.

“Hm,” Max’s mother hums, posture unchanged. Zeph can’t be certain, but he thinks she’s holding back a smile.

Max protests under the looks from his family. “It’s two months each way! It’s too long! I have to go home sometimes.”

“Max,” Will starts. His voice very delicate. “You haven’t been home in years.”

“No, I mean _home_ home, not _family_ home.” Max says, sighing in exasperation. He slaps a hand on the table, waves next to him. “Zeph would worry his brains out if I was gone for four whole months.”

For most of the dinner, Zeph has been completely ignored. It’s been the second best part of this feast.

Now, three humans focus on him.

As a servant comes by to refill his barely-touched wineglass, Zeph takes the bottle from them in a strong grip, leans his head back, and chugs.

“Your home is with Zeph,” Will says, since nobody else has said anything for a long beat.

“Yeah!” Max throws an arm around Zeph’s shoulders, smiling. “It’s better than paying for inns everywhere, and I get way better company.”

“You live in a snake den.” Will says, still eminently skeptical.

“Hey! A _naga_ den,” Max replies, honestly offended on Zeph's behalf. “It’s great! Zeph even burrowed out a whole other room to store treasure, and there’s a kitchen and bed and everything. The only thing I needed to bring in was chairs.”

Max’s father leans in, eyes narrowed. Elbow against the table. “And how much gold do you charge?”

It takes a full ten seconds. The silence grows increasingly awkward.

Zeph swallows, realizing that was directed at  _him_.

“None,” Zeph replies, giving the father a look. What an odd question. All he can do is shrug. “I don’t want any.”

Father humphs at that, sitting back and frowning. Will seems to be struggling with it.

“Considering what he brings in, I suppose you’re glad Max doesn’t show up on your taxes,” He says. Something about it sounds like a joke, but.

Zeph stares. “Taxes?” He’s read that somewhere. He spends a second to try and remember the word. What was that again. Something about gold.

Will stares back at him. “The… what do you pay your lord?”

“I don’t have one.”  

“Lady, then.”

Zeph shakes his head. There’s nobody else in charge. It’s just him.

Will seems confused, but he leans on the table, frowning. “Who do you answer to?”

“What?” Zeph asks. That question doesn’t make sense. But Will seems oddly focused, so he answers. “Nobody.”

Will frowns. More frustrated than before, but also, more confused. “What, exactly, do you _do_?”

“I.” Zeph pauses. Maybe honesty is the right answer, and besides, he can’t think of how to lie. “I do. Things.” He pierces another piece of with the fork, occupying his mouth, and buying himself a second or two to think. “I hunt. And sleep. I. collect books, when I can get them.”

None of this seems to be working, because WIll keeps frowning, so Zeph keeps talking. What is _expected_ here.

“I study magic, sometimes. Mostly I keep an eye on other nagas, when I can.”

Max’s mother sets down her wineglass with an audible clink.

“That’s-” Will shuts his mouth at the sound, and sits back, hands folded.

“Zephyrus, do tell me.” Max’s mother cocks her head to one side. There’s a very slight smile on her face. “Who’s dominant these days?”

Zeph blinks. “I am.”

“Really.” Mother says. The word trails off.

“Yes. Really.” Zeph says.

“Not worried about your territory, then,” She continues. She picks up her wine again, swirling it around. “Even when you’re traveling so far away?” The smile seemed friendly. Now, it seems mocking.

Zeph can almost smile himself. That’s a challenge that means so little it’s amusing. He’s fine. “Nobody’s going to claim anything while I’m gone. It wouldn’t _be_ my territory if I couldn’t fight for it.”

“Hm,” She hums again, and smiles wider. This time, it looks genuine.

Will takes in a breath like he wants to say something - and stops. He takes a second.

“You’re dominant.”

“Yes,” Zeph replies, picking more food from his plate. “They shouldn't cause too much trouble, if I'm only gone for a few weeks. I told them I’d be away. It’s not like I died.”

None of them can invade his den, he has wards there, and anything else his people could get up to should be relatively easy to solve. A few smacks up against people’s heads, for whatever their latest stunt was. He’s already smacked it into them that they shouldn’t bother humans, at all. If he wasn’t certain, he wouldn’t have followed Max here in the first place.

“You’re telling me you’re the _leader_ of all nagas?” Will turns the phrase into something not quite a question.

“No,” Zeph answers, and watches Will’s be confused again. Maybe he expected Zeph to brag - but that’d be a lie. “ _Leading_ would mean they _listen_. It’s like.” He’s read the metaphor before, it’s like- “Herding cats.”

When Zeph was younger. When he was small - too small, by far - he dreamed of being bigger, even a little. Just enough so that one day, he could be someone tough. Someone important.

Another human phrase that's right on the nose. 'Be careful what you wish for.'

“Dominant, then.” Will says. His brow creased in thought. “Rather cushy position.”

Zeph takes the opportunity. It’s nice to be able to complain about this, for once.

“It’s terrible,” Zeph says flatly. “I can tell them ‘no killing humans’, and that’s gone fine, so far. Tell them not to cause trouble, too, and they don’t. Mostly. But that’s not the worst part.” He frowns. “It’s everything _else_ that’s the problem.”

Being the dominant naga means nobody questions his decisions. It sounds nice, in theory.

In practice, it means Zeph makes far, far too many decisions.

“You're supposed to be the next lord, is that right? Have dozens of humans come to _you_  about who fought who, or. Something about mating, or hunting territory, or…. whatever your people argue about. Then have them make _you_ judge who’s right, and who’s in wrong. Then you’ll understand how….” Zeph takes in a deep breath, rubbing at the bridge of his noise. " _Stupid_ arguments can get.”

Almost every serious problem _becomes_ his problem, and there’s no end to how petty and senseless nagas can be. Zeph can’t imagine humans are too different. They seem fairly petty themselves.

Max’s mother breaks into an honest, loud burst of laughter, slapping a hand against her chest. Max’s father snorts, and salutes Zeph with his mug of ale.

Will…

Zeph can’t read Will’s expression, but it might be thoughtful.

“ _Zeph_ ,” Max says, voice aghast. He tugs at Zeph’s arm. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

Zeph feels guilt dig into his chest. He’s always been honest, he never wanted -  His tail curls. “Tell you what?”

“You’re a noble?” Max says, eyes wide. “Oh no.” He claps one hand against his cheek. “I should have - Well, I guess I didn’t think about it, really, but I shoulda been more formal.”

Oh. Spring.

Are there mating rituals for nobles? There must be, because Max must have skipped over _every single one of them._

This impulsive, ridiculous, human squirms in his seat, because of this interspecies revelation, when by all rights _everything_  should have made him realize, well before he ever tried to leap into Zeph’s nest.

The sheer novelty of seeing Max actually embarrassed, right down to his face turning almost as red as his hair, makes Zeph start turning red himself.

Regardless of what's around him, Zeph wraps part of his tail around Max, and - he won’t do much, not in front of everyone. One thing he can do is touch Max’s hair, stroking it back. “It's fine.” Interspecies relationships have problems. They come in droves. Zeph’s not sure his position qualifies as ‘noble’, but if humans think it does? There’s no practical difference.

The moment of worry on Max’s face fades, as quickly as always. He beams. “I should’ve known,” He says, his tone back to its regular brightness. He cups Zeph’s cheek with one hand. “I mean, you are the best snake in the world.”

Max’s hand is warm. Zeph shuts his eyes. He moves down to follow the touch.

One second into the kiss, he realizes what they’re doing, what it shows with absolute certainty, who they’re doing this in front of.

He jolts back in alarm. The chair beside him crumples as he tightens his tail around it hard, crushing its legs into a mess of splinters.

“Oh!” Max says, snaps his fingers, as if he’s suddenly realized something important. “I forgot!”

Zeph stays risen up, tail tightly coiled.

“I should have told you about when I went up north, right? So-” Max starts going on about another adventure. The one where he came back with ice still frozen on his armor, even in summer. 

Beyond Max's story, there's only silence.

Looking over the mother, the father - they’re intent on Max’s new story. The father leans forward, resting on an elbow, grinning with enthusiasm

Zeph turns.

Will’s holding his fork, staring at Zeph. The piece of meat on the fork slowly slides off, flopping back onto his plate. He’s blinking rapidly. After a moment, he shakes his head, lets out a breath, and. Watches Max. The mother merely contemplates her wine, lips pursed. Oddly intent on Zeph. She give him a nod, thoughtfully, before turning her attention away.

They're.

Not paying attention to him.

Zeph stays stock-still, just in case this is some kind of trap.

Max goes on about the frost giant he fought, mimics some of his stabs for dramatic effect, almost knocking over his own plate in the process, and Zeph’s not…

No.

This can’t be right.

Zephyrus is a monster. He knows that, it’s a fact, inescapable. That’s what nagas _are_. This family is human, and they’ve just seen him do - not just seen, but _accept_ \- that he's done something unspeakable.

They’re still not looking at him.

“Why doesn’t this bother you?” He asks, finally. It may have come out a little louder than he liked.

Even Max falls silent, looking up at him.

“I’m,” Zeph hesitates, but he’s had quite a bit of wine by this point, he can find the courage. “I don’t understand you. Doesn’t-” He waves vaguely at Max, thinks better of saying anything out loud, and wraps his tail over Max’s lap. It’s the closest he can come to saying anything.  “This bother you?”

Will clears his throat, looking away. Max’s mother pours herself some more wine. She’s thinking about something else, and Zeph might be part of it - but he's not the main focus.

Max’s father, meanwhile, only seems surprised. “What?” He strokes his beard, brow furrowed in thought. “Aren’t you in charge of your land?”

“Yes. But-”

“Well, that’s fine then!” Max’s father leans back. “Why, my great-aunt Calpernia-”

“We all know about your great-aunt,” Will says, rubbing at his temple. “She-”

“Married a dragon!” Max’s father claps a hand against the table, grinning wide. He gives Zeph a wink. “Nothing wrong with a strong monster, beast. My great-aunt gave me the _best_ birthday presents when I was a lad.”

Zeph stares. The conversation moves smoothly around his interruption. Like it never even happened.

This family is fine with monsters, for some reason. They don't just tolerate them, they employ them. Monsters are swarming all over this castle. A few of the servants at this dinner are, technically, monsters, and nobody has minded. For this family, ‘monster’ is an afterthought to everything else.

Zeph knows this fact from the books he’s read, but it still comes as something of a surprise.

He is, by some human definition, _noble_. And that’s really all that nobles care about.

This is.

It might be.

Max laughs softly, and takes one of Zeph’s hands in his. “It’s okay, Zeph.”

Zeph grabs onto Max’s hand so tightly it probably hurts. Max squeezes back.

Their hands stay clasped through the rest of dinner.

The conversation between the family goes on, mostly led by Max. At some point, Max’s father starts talking to Zeph about hunting, which is startling - Zeph jolts in place the first time he’s addressed by name - but even that’s easy to field.

In Max’s adventures, he encounters spike pits, deathtraps, horrific warriors, and laughs all of it off as nothing. Zeph spends a significant part of listening to Max thinking of all the ways Max could have died.

But his father is retired from those trials. He spends his days on other things. Half the beasts Max’s father has hunted are ones Zeph _knows_. And he’s just like Max. Let the father go on about his adventures - or in this case, hunts - nod at the appropriate moments, and make approving noises whenever he does something right.

It’s simple.

Zeph can actually contribute, too, if rarely, still hesitant. When he comments about the best way he ever caught a deer, Max’s father even laughs, and Zeph can almost smilre. It was amusing, if he thinks about it.

Max was _right_ about the level of danger. For the first time in forever, when he said something was safe, he didn't accidentally downplay it.

His father _is_ easy to deal with. He’s as friendly as Max is, and even easier to lead on a tangent. Will seems to approve, and that's great. And Max's parents are…

Well. The father is easy, anyway.

Max’s mother is harder to read. She’s silent the whole meal, her face neutral. Thinking about something. She’s short, she’s slim, she’s got magic, but nothing impressive, and she even likes Zeph, somewhat. She’s still pinging Zeph’s instincts as ‘unsettling’.

He shakes his head, and concentrates on food.

The dinner goes on for hours. Hours longer than Zeph thought it would. He’s not complaining, of course, because there’s food all the time. Plus, every time his glass is empty, someone fills it back up. He didn’t even _know_ wine came in transparent, instead of reddish-purple.

But by the time it stops coming, and the food starts to be gathered up by servants -

The windows are dark, it’s night.

Next to him, Max is yawning every once in a while. Zeph’s plate is almost whisked away from under him - but he snags the last wingbone off it, because that was _his_.

Max’s father laughs, coming around the table to slap Zeph on the back again, hearty and full of ale. “You! Me! A hunt, tomorrow!” The second slap makes Zeph cough, but it’s friendly, so he tolerates it. “I want to see what a beast of your caliber can do.”

“Thank you,” Zeph says, uncertain. That could go... very poorly. “I’ll think about it.”

The father nods at him, claps him on the back again, then retreats. As he reaches the head of the table, he bows, dramatically, and offers his hand to the mother, who takes it with an elegant ‘oh, I might as well’ smile, and stands.

She gives Zeph and Max a nod, and they leave. Mother patting the father on the arm, him laughing and jostling her playfully in turn as they exit the dinner hall.

“He’ll probably forget about hunting by tomorrow.” Max nudges Zeph with a shoulder. “Dad’s not always great at remembering things.”

“Is he really,” Zeph says. “I could never have guessed.”

Will stands from his seat. He taps a finger against the table, taking his time organizing himself. Straightening out his clothes, and dawdling.

Ah. Of course.

“Why don’t you go on,” Zeph says, in a light a tone as he can manage. He lifts Max up from his seat, hands under Max’s shoulders. “I’ll meet you back in your room.”

“You sure?” Max finds his feet easily as Zeph sets him back down. “I don’t-”

“There’s one last thing I want to do here,” Zeph says, and before the inevitable can come down on him, or Max can question anything -

Zeph slithers up behind the servant carrying that tray of those eggs that have the interesting yolks, with the red dust on them, and gently lifts it out the goblin’s hands. The goblin lets out a squeak and flees, even though Zeph hasn’t been the slightest bit aggressive.

Behind him, he hears Max let out a snort of laughter. “I’ll see you there, you greedy slug.” He says, deeply affectionate, and a little sleepy. “You have fun.”

Max’s footsteps fade, and this food is Zeph’s. Two wins in one. And now, Zeph can spend a few seconds finishing off this particular batch of tidbits before Will comes to confront him.

After a minute or so, Zeph licks the last part of weird, tasty yolk off a finger, and turns.

Will is leaning against the corner of the table. His face as blank as his mother’s.

"Hello."

“Life-debt?” Will asks.

“I wasn’t lying.” Zeph slithers back over and sets the tray on the table. “I do owe him.”

Will takes in a deep, slow breath, and lets it out. “You could have just _said_ you were lovers.” He says, tired. "That would have caused me, personally, a lot less distress. I half-thought you'd give my brother a... 'hug' for being so forward in the courtyard. Then I thought you didn't realize."

“I-” Zeph starts. He doesn’t know how to explain, he stops. He didn't know Will had noticed that.

“Mother likes you, and I can see why.” Will rubs at his temple. “ _I’m_ not certain I care for a monster that tries to keep secrets.”

The accusation makes Zeph’s scales itch. “I wasn’t keeping a secret.”

“Max has made it clear that you’re-”

“ _Max_ ,” Zeph says, turning towards this older human, moving in close, raised up high. “Has hardly said anything about-” He waves an arm, trying to gesture the everything, and fails. “ _Anything_.”

Will says nothing. He simply watches.

Zeph sighs. His shoulders slump. Trying to be intimidating to _anyone_ in this godsawful family is like trying to break a stone in half with your skull.

“If Max had ever mentioned anything about it to _me_ ," Zeph forces the words out, teeth gritted. “I would have said something. But he’s never said. That... that.” He slaps a hand on his face, frustrated.

“That you’re lovers,” Will finishes for him. His face continues to be implacable.

“You know, I woke up one morning. Early this summer.” Zeph hasn’t had anyone to say this to before, the words spill out without him wanting to. “And I realized. I have _chairs_ in my den now.” He spreads his arms wide. "There’s no reason to have those, but Max is there, and he’s _always_ there, and it’s not like I’m going to _get rid_ of him.”

Zeph stops. He’s not sure where he was even going with that. He stares over the dining hall.

There are so many bright candles here. Where do they even get this many.

It takes a while, but Will eventually nods, very slow.

“Not used to wine, are you.”

Zeph flips the empty egg tray over, out of sheer irritation. “I’ve tried it before.” He mutters. That’s more than any other naga.  “I’m fine.”

Will takes several seconds, eyes on Zeph, thinking, before he speaks.

“I grew up with Max. Or, well. Should I say I mostly _saw_ him grow up." Will says, careful. His tone is serious. “He’s so much younger. And he's had his share of flings. I was around for most of them. Teenage crushes, affairs, what have you. They’ve never gone on longer than a couple months." Will tilts his head back, frowning slightly in thought. "I think three was the longest.”

Zeph looks over the barren table. His hands clench on the wood. It creaks gently.

“He’s been with _you_ for two years. You’re the first person he's _ever_ brought home, _and_ the only nonhuman I've known about.” Will gives Zeph a very weak version of the slap his father could produce. “I'd keep that in mind.”

Zeph stays still. He thinks.

The entire time Zeph’s been here, he’s been surprised, by one thing or another. Perhaps most of that was that he simply didn’t understand humans. It wouldn’t be the first time these people have surprised him. This family _produced_ the one who keeps surprising him.

Really, the fact that they’re surprising him shouldn’t be a surprise.

Zeph looks over at Will. Who's calm, standing semi-relaxed. Leaning against the table, right next to Zeph. He’s facing forward - but his eyes dart over every couple seconds. Will’s not as good as his mother, but he’s close. His poker face is impressive. Talking to an upset monster is a stressful endeavor. If Zeph couldn’t literally smell the nervousness on him, he might not have noticed the signs.

He returns the backslap, though he tries to make it gentle. Will coughs, thumps at his chest with a fist.

“Thank you.” Zeph says. And because the brother needs to hear it. “I’m honored to have your approval.”

“Happy you don’t have the big brother coming after you?” Will asks, smiling. A lot of tension has dropped from him. He coughs again.

“Yes. I could crush you like an egg” He gives Will another, gentler pat on the shoulder, reassuring. “But we both want Max to be happy. I'm glad we get along."

Will doesn’t, exactly, flinch. He rubs at his eyes. “And _there’s_ why mother likes you,” He mutters, both amused, and tired. “I should have expected that.”

“I should-” Zeph looks over at the doorway. Somewhere, Max is waiting, and Zeph wants to be back there. “I should go.”

Will waves him off, seemingly tired. “Please, don’t let me keep you.” He walks off, and heads towards a door across the hall.

Zeph stares at the other doorway.

The one that leads to the hallway, that leads to _Max_ , and everything involved with that. He doesn’t move a scale.

“Zeph,” Will calls back  Zeph turns.  “My brother’s an idiot,” Will says. He smiles, somewhat wryly. “Don’t overthink _for_ him.”

With that, he heads through the doorway. Off to do his own, human, noble things. Undoubtedly they’re more human important than what’s going on here.

Zeph huffs slightly. Max has his own set of skills. Zeph respects them. They’re impressive.

Though. Admittedly. Max doesn’t always think things through.

But even _Max_ knows that. Since he knows he doesn’t know everything, he overcompensates. Anything he knows must be so obvious that everyone else is aware. Why bother to repeat it.

Zeph lets his arms drop. Then he digs a hand into his hair, and swears, very quietly.

All the time, every time, Max keeps saying how handsome, and strong, and smart, and amazing Zeph is. He thinks Zeph is the single most intelligent being in the world, because he’s a foolish, idealistic, adorable idiot human, who thinks far too highly of this one abnormal naga.

Zeph’s internally shouting at himself.

Max never thought he needed to say anything. He thought Zeph was smart enough to know it, maybe even before Max knew it himself.

In reality, Zeph’s ten times the idiot Max is, and still he didn’t dare to ask, or talk to Max - he let it go on for _this_ long, and said nothing, because he didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t want to question it. That makes Zeph _twenty_ times the idiot, simply for being a coward.

Max is waiting, back in his room. Zeph promised to meet him there.

It’s easy to retrace the path back to Max’s room. Their scent left a trail, and the servants give Zeph all the leeway he could ever ask for while he slides through the halls. And if Zeph’s wrong, which he might be, then he’s mercifully around humans who won’t hesitate. It won’t have to be some drawn-out, painful thing. It’ll be over quick.

Maybe once he sees Max, he’ll know what to say.

Arriving at Max’s room is unmistakeable. It smells like him. It even has traces of Zeph himself, from earlier.

He pushes the door open, it swings wide. The handle bumps against the wall with a dull thunk. The lump in the Max-smelling bed snorts. It rolls over.

As Zeph watches, Max sits up slowly, squinting. He’s propped up on an elbow. “Mmh?”

“Um,” Zeph says, awkward. Then, “Hello.”

“Hey,” Max says, and starts grinning. He motions Zeph in further, dropping back onto the bed. “C’mere.”

“Max,” Zeph repeats. He slides the rest of himself inside the door, and smacks it shut with his tail. “I need to...” He trails off, because Max has groaned, arching up, stretching his arms over his head, in a way that makes the blanket slip down over his stomach, exposing a lot of.

Zeph looks at the exposed human skin. He knows, to the exact degree, how warm it is. He tries to focus.

‘Hm?” Max hums. He rubs at an eye. Zeph must have woken him up. He’s never this groggy unless he was asleep mere seconds ago. “Are you coming to bed or what?”

Zeph stays silent. He doesn’t move.

“M’kay.” Max rolls over onto his side. “G’nite.” He starts shuffling to get comfortable.

Zeph should say it.

Maybe now’s not the right time. There could be a better one, he should hold off. This isn’t romantic, or dramatic. This is wrong, it might be bad timing. Or maybe it’s the only time, and if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll have screwed up everything. He’ll have lost the chance, anything else will be too late. What if this _is_ the opportunity, but he screws it up, somehow. Maybe this could be done better. Maybe it should have happened sooner.

...Maybe if Zeph keeps arguing with himself about what time _is_ right versus what _isn’t_ , he’ll never say it.

“I love you,” Zeph blurts it out almost without meaning to.

His heart surges in a way that might mean he’s about to die. It’s only three syllables, and now his throat is locked up, tense.

This is horrible. This is a death sentence. Why does anyone do this.

Max rolls onto his back, and looks up at Zeph. Still half-asleep. He blinks in surprise. Zeph focuses on Max’s face. He isn’t sure if his heart is beating or if it’s stopped, entirely, why did he think this was a good idea.

Being a tapestry is still an option, right. Zeph’s pelt is far more handsome than the one currently on display.

Then Max snorts, and smiles.

“I love you too, you stupid slug. _C’mere_ already.” Max lies back, eyes shut. He pats the mattress next to himself. “’s a good bed.”

Zeph slithers forward.

It _is_ a good bed. It’s soft.

It’s easy to slide under the covers, too. Then up and around Max, who kicks his legs up to rest on Zeph’s tail, and wraps his arms around the rest with soft, satisfied hum. Max shuffles around, making himself comfortable. Zeph lies half underneath Max, half coiled on the mattress.

“Hey,” Max says, half-asleep. He reaches up, and pokes a finger gently against Zeph’s nose, in a slightly startling move. Zeph flinches a fraction of an inch back as the finger taps him. Max laughs to himself. “You’re handsome.”

Zeph says nothing. He cups a hand against Max’s cheek. It’s warm.

“Don’t argue with me about that,” Max murmurs, wagging his finger briefly before his arm drops on Zeph’s chest. “It’s a fact.”

It’s so easy to kiss him it feels almost like an instinct. Max leans into it, and his arms wrap around Zeph’s neck.

There’s some readjusting. Zeph slides a hand up Max’s shirt, stroking over his chest, and Max surges up, holding Zeph close with a small, muffled moan.

Max isn’t an idiot, no matter what people think. He’s just different. He made himself _entirely_ clear, and of course he wouldn’t _say_ anything, because he knew what that would _mean_ , and Max has never, not once, pressured Zeph for more than he was willing to give.

The true idiot is _Zeph_ , who thought about this too much, overanalyzed, and sabotaged himself. He could have made this move at almost anytime, and it would have been okay, even before their spring together. Max _adores_ him, and he's always honest, exceptionally clear about it.

Though to be fair.

Zeph pulls back, to catch his breath, and looks down at Max. Who laughs, slightly breathless himself, and gives Zeph a wink, before pulling him back down.

Who would ever believe this strange, impossible kind of thing could be _real_.

 

* * *

 

The small smack on his cheek is easily swatted away. Zeph can ignore it.

It happens again. Then a third time.

Zeph groans, snorting as he rises from sleep. He peeks an eye open.

It’s dark. There’s moonlight through the windows, pale and translucent. The castle, silent. No servants moving around.

How late is it?

Midnight, or early morning, judging by the moonlight.

There’s a small, flickering green light darting around Max’s room. Zeph squints at it, briefly. It smacks against his face for a fourth time. He catches it with a quick strike, the small thing flutters in his hand.

He sits up, as much as he can without disturbing Max.

Max is snoring, splayed on top of Zeph’s coils. He mutters something incoherent, hugs onto a different part of tail. He’s strange, bony, and adorable. Zeph runs a hand through his hair, and smiles, just slightly.

Then the thing Zeph caught _bites_ his palm, and he crushes it without thinking. It pops like a grape, leaking green magic that trickles down his wrist, and trails sideways through the air. It moves towards the door, then out through the hallway.

Zeph flicks his tongue out, startles a bit - that's not a small type of magic.

Then he swears. Under his breath, so he won't wake Max.

Damn. He should have known.

Zeph feels a distinct lack of surprise, as he watches the summon-trail drift through the air.

There's a big pile of human lying on his tail. Zeph frowns down at Max, who's very comfortable, but at the moment, inconvenient. Getting out from underneath him, without waking him, is going to take longer than the person who _sent_ that summons wants.

Good. She can wait. Actually, he _should_ make her wait.

So. Zeph takes his time.

He slides out from under Max, very, very carefully, and that part honestly takes a while. Max grabs onto things, he’s a cuddler. Extracting himself from that clingy human grip is a multi-step process. Then there’s opening the door, without it creaking, and slowly shutting it behind him, keeping it silent.

The greenish trail through the air has faded to human eyes, but Zeph can taste its remnants. He _could_ follow it anyway. Instead, he spends a full five minutes, sitting outside Max’s doorway, just to see if another summon will come.

He is _not_ a beast that comes when called. Or at all, if he doesn’t want to. If the game that’s being played is the one he _thinks_ he’s playing, then there’s no greater fumble than looking _eager to please._

So he stays in a lazy coil, waiting, half-napping in place, leaning against the wall, and waits.

Half an hour later, the second summon bug comes fluttering down the hallway.

Before it can hit him in the face, Zeph smacks it against the wall with a flat hand, feeling it burst under his palm. It leaves a huge green magical splatter. It takes a second before the trail forms, drifting towards the source. 

That took longer than he thought. Maybe he’s not being totally underestimated. This time, Zeph straightens up, and follows the wisp of magic down the halls.

It goes through places Zeph hasn’t seen before. He’s only seen what parts of this castle Max has been in, he was never given a tour. The hallways aren’t quite a maze - but within the first minute or so, he's thoroughly lost. this trail is _intentionally_ confusing.

The light it guides him out of a side passage, darting into a huge room. Zeph slides in - and has to pause, surprised.

If he looks to his right. _That’s_ what would be the main entrance, where most people come through. He and Max came through a servant’s entrance, when they delivered things. This is the -

Zeph looks up at the columns, and the ceiling. Elaborate. Full of decorations, meant to impress. This is the entryway, and there’s doors leading everywhere.

The wisp of green magic wafts towards the exit opposite the entrance, and Zeph follows. It darts intangibly through the large, black pair of double doors opposite the entrance. The doors are made of some some wood Zeph doesn’t know about, ebony? Maybe? 

He _does_ know that the carvings on them shouldn't portray evil gods, sacrificial rituals, and demons.

Must be the throne room. It's opposite the entrance, it's huge, it's impressive, it's - Got a full flight of stairs leading up to it.

Zeph sighs, rubbing at his forehead.  _Stairs_. Annoying. They feel all weird and bumpy underneath him, and they never offer much purchase.

But this is his adventure, and part of his quests. 

His _current_ quest has very loudly said, ‘climb stairs to the large, weird door’, even if it's inconvenient.

Zeph grumbles, slides up the stupid things, and without any preamble, shoves those stupidly large doors open. They’re not as heavy as they look. In the middle of the room, the green light hovers. Illuminating nothing, surrounded by absolute blackness.

Yes. This would be how it would go.

He rolls his eyes, and slides into the room. The second his tailtip passes through the doors, they slam shut behind him with a deep, final sound, and the green light in front of him winks out of existence.

It leaves Zeph in complete darkness, surrounded by nothing. He waves a hand in front of himself, but he can’t see it. The room is completely silent. Zeph is alone in this void, and with the doors closed behind him, nobody can come and help him. He's as alone as he could be.

The setup is excellent, Zeph has to admit. This took some planning, and a lot of complicated set work. This is professional.

He rubs at his eyes, rolling his other hand in the air, willing this to go faster. Get to the point.

“So,” Says a soft, familiar voice. “You’ve arrived.” The words echo around the pitch-black room, bouncing off the walls in eerie reverberation.

“Yes.” Zeph says, and sighs. He wishes he were back in bed. “I’m here.”

One by one, torches light up with brilliant green light. Fire, bursting out of the tops of skulls, the green light beaming from their eye sockets and out of their heads. They illuminate a trail from Zeph, at the doorway, to something at the end of the throne room. He waits patiently.

Something soft whips away, freeing up the windows and letting the full moon beam in. The last few torches light up, and Zeph sees...

Exactly what he expected.

Max’s mother sits on her black, spiked throne, one leg crossed over the other. Her smile is a sharp thing. Between the odd illumination, and her smile, she is unearthly, and dark, and terrifying.

“Hello, Max’s mother.” Zeph says, and waves.

Her smile drops incrementally. She blinks rapidly, then composes herself. "Zephyrus." She says, voice low.

“You should have mentioned something,” Zeph adds, with the slightest bit of smile. Green fire spreads down the torches, and over the ground, creeping towards him. “We could have settled this hours ago.”

It’d have been nice to know that Max had a family in the first place. That’d have been some warning. It’d mean Zeph had time to prepare. Brush up on his family manners, understand humans better, maybe he’d know how to have handled it better.

It would have been _especially_ nice to know that Max’s mother was what she _is_. _That_ would have explained the monstrous minions, right from the beginning.

Max’s mother laughs, holding a hand up to her mouth. “Oh my. Zephyrus. You don’t scare easily." She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. The fire licks closer to his tail. "Not afraid? You should be.”

“I should have recognized what you are,” Zeph admits. He truly should have noticed, he's cursing himself that he didn't. Now, he has barely anything prepared. “Only. I’m not used to seeing one of your type…” 

He pauses. He _wants_ to say it, but he was supposed to be _polite_ to the mother. Now that he _knows_ , he has to prove his strength. 

Zeph finishes his sentence, widening his eyes, looking incredulous. ”Only... dark mistress, you're so _old_.”

Max’s mother's smile drops entirely.

Zeph doesn’t flinch when heat brushes up against him. He can’t back down against this threat. There's no worse idea than that when facing someone else _dominant_.

The flames die down, and eventually flicker away into nothing. The mother doesn't quite look like she's pouting, but it's disappointed.

Honestly, Zeph's relieved.

This is one of the very, _very_ rare kinds of monster that _also_ happens to be human. Zeph wasn't prepared for this, but unlike everything else - it's not  _that_  strange. This is boss against boss. Dangerous, but _finally_ , it's something _familiar_.

Admittedly, Zeph's never faced a mate's _mother_ before, and the rules are slightly different. It's still easier than dinner, or cities, or anything with human customs.

He needs to win approval, just like before. Now, he doesn't have to be the slightest bit human to get it. All Zeph needs to do is be strong, confident, clearly adore his mate - the last one's in the bag -

And, most importantly, not die.

Max’s mother - the _sorceress_ \- laughs again.

She settles back in her throne. It’s bright in this room now, with all the torches she’s lit.

“So. You think you're brave, snake. _And_ you think you can date my _son_.” The sorceress starts examining her nails, casual. Smirking. Zeph takes a breath, and tastes far too much magic in the air. He grimaces. The light grows brighter. “Let’s see if you're truly worthy of him.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you ready?” The sorceress sits calm and certain in her throne, a gentle smile on her face.

Zeph nods.

Of all the ways he _could_ fight to have his mate, this one is thankfully normal.

Silverware, manners, being polite - All of those are gone. This is monster against monster. No pretense, no decorum, and there’s no better mate for Max out there, not in the entire world.

If Max’s mother doesn’t _already_ see that, Zeph will make it clear.  
  
“Very well,” Max’s mother purrs, gestures him closer. “Come and face your fate.”

Zeph straightens his back, takes a deep breath, and slithers forward until he’s suddenly forced to stop. His tail just behind his torso doesn’t have anything to grip onto. He squirms a bit, rolls his tail around, pushes forward,  until eventually he gets a solid hold again.

Max’s mother watches with a blank look.

"You know," She says, tone light, but with something else behind it. "I expected that, and yet it's still disappointing."

Zeph glances over his shoulder.

Part of his tail still droops inside the hole left by the trapdoor. It’s more than large enough for a human, wide and deep enough to fit any monster who...  stands on it. With legs.

“That wouldn’t.” Zeph starts - and stops as he gets glared at. He raises his hands. “It’s just, I wouldn’t _fit_ in-”

“I am _aware_ , Zephyrus,” Max’s mother says, rubbing at her temple. “I had all of _seven hours_ since you arrived, and less than four since I learned what you _were_. There wasn’t time to get the traps changed out.” She huffs, crosses her arms. “They’re very dangerous,” She adds, almost as an afterthought.

“I’m sure they’ve caught all kinds of humans,” Zeph agrees.

“Dozens,” She sniffs.

“It’s very insidious. I didn’t even feel the trigger for it.”

“Hm.” She hums, mollified, but narrows her eyes. “There’s more to a test than traps, mind you.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

When he slithers forward - he lets the rest of his tail drop into the hole, swishing the tip around the pit. No spikes - but far enough that any legs would shatter.

Max’s mother settles back, and folds her arms. Her hand taps idly against her chair. “Tell me, naga. How are you going to treat my son?”

“As best I can,” Zeph says, moving forward. Slower, now. He’s feeling for any part of the floor that gives underneath him, or a wire. He’s not likely to get lucky twice.

“Oh, _yes_ , I’m sure he’ll be treated to absolute _luxury_ while he lives with you.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “Sleeping in some filthy hole in the ground.”

A hot spike goes through Zeph’s chest. He stops in his tracks. His den is. “It’s not. Filthy.” He mutters.

“A hole,” The sorceress repeats, lip curling up. “In the ground.”

Zeph has no servants. No huge spaces, no massive castle walls. He can’t offer Max even a _quarter_ of the feast that they just had. He swallows, throat dry. It’s a comfortable, warm...

 _Hole_ in the-

No.

Zeph straightens his back, and slithers forward. He knew this was a challenge. He should have been prepared for underhanded tactics. A monstrous mother, testing his worth.

She’s _trying_ to make him give up. To make him afraid _._

She's too late. Zeph's done with being a coward, in any way, shape or form. 

“My den isn’t a hole. It’s a home _._ ” Zeph lifts his chin. “Max has never had a problem with it.”

“ _Max_ would sleep on a dungpile if he thought it’d keep him warm.”

“He wouldn’t have stayed this long, unless...” Zeph deliberately trails his gaze over the skull lanterns, and the black decor. “He inherited very poor taste.”

She taps her fingers more firmly on the arm of her throne, eyes narrow. “I suppose it can’t be a complete wreck,” She admits, examining her nails. Then she grimaces. “I _do_ apologize for this next one.”

That’s strange, nothing’s happened, Zeph thinks, just as he feels the tripplate sink under his weight, half a second too late to move.

He wraps his tail instantly over and around himself, hunched over, as a bursts of metal plink off his scales. One sinks into his side, with a solid, wet thud. He surges up, swearing. It’s small, but it _hurts_.

Max’s mother sighs, exhausted. “That wasn’t designed for a someone who couldn’t jump out of the way.” She admits. “Though I doubt it’ll hold you up.”

Zeph sucks in a breath through his teeth. He yanks the dart out, drops his coils, and glares at the offending thing. Small, sharp metal in his palm, glistening with blood. So small, though. Even with dozens of them, it's not deadly. He looks up at Max’s mother. She shrugs, looking resigned.

Zeph licks the dart, and raises an eyebrow.

“Mamba?” He asks, rubbing at his side. Against humans. Against most other monsters, this would be instant paralysis. Without help, it could even be deadly.

Zeph’s not venomous, but he’s still another  _naga_. This is going to sting for days.

“Difficult to get, and wasted on you.” Max’s mother mutters. She’s leaned up against her hand, cheek pressed against her palm. “Of all the monsters that could have-” She rolls her eyes, waving her free hand.  “Never mind it.”

Zeph keeps his back straight. They’re not done yet. Trials come in threes. “I’ll face the-”

"Oh, yes! Face the next one!" Max's mother’s voice is loud, dripping with sarcasm. She flicks her fingers, and the last trap is set off before Zeph can even get close to it. She spreads her arms wide, leaning back on her throne, exhaustion clear on her face as she leans back. "Go forth, and conquer."

Zeph watches the pendulum blades swing over the breadth of the hallway. They swing wide and deadly, their razor sharp blades moving in arcs -

That are almost three feet off the ground.

Zeph snaps his fingers, realizing. “To make potential suitors crawl.” It’s not quite a question.

A slow, annoyed nod.

“This.” Zeph has to pause. None of the three things were. “This trial wasn’t well suited. Was it.”

“Again, I am _aware_ , serpent.” She says, and sighs even heavier this time. “It worked wonders on humans.” She almost sounds nostalgic.

Likely true. She's probably won every single trial she’s ever presented. Humans wouldn’t like _any_ of this.

The decor alone would be enough to shake most human confidence. The traps add several more layers of fear. And if any human faced all them, and proved their commitment, somehow survived - at the end of all of it, there’d still be a _sorceress_ to face.

For Zeph, he wriggles in place, watching the pendulums, and frowns. “Should I-”

“Oh please, don’t bother. You crawl by _default_.” The sorceress huffs, folding her arms. The blades swing back up into the ceiling. She waves her hands rapidly, disgusted. “Let’s not ruin _everything_.”  

Zeph slithers forward through what would have been his third test. He ducks down close to the ground anyway. Once he’s sure he’s passed the range of the final trap - Zeph curls up, resting his hands on his scales.

Max’s mother sits, regal and commanding, on her throne, frowning deeply.

“You don’t hoard any treasure,” She says, after several long moments. “Everything you brought was Max’s.”

Zeph shrugs. “I’m not an adventurer.”

“So my son is supporting your lifestyle.”

That’s not true, nagas don’t use money. Zeph doesn’t want Max’s gold, or even to store it, he’d prefer the extra space. “My kind don’t-”

“How _can_ you support him?”

Zeph hesitates. What do humans like. More importantly, what do human _parents_ like. “Support him…. emotionally.” He offers.

The mother simply stares, finger tapping on her thigh.

There's a long pause.

Then she says. “Max." Another beat of pause. "Really.”

Damn it. That was bad. Zeph should have known that, he _knows_ his human. Max’s emotions barely waver enough to ripple a puddle.

That was too ambiguous, too placating, it sounds insincere. Or worse - and not without reason - like Zeph read that answer out of a _book_.

This isn’t about humans, ambiguous, written-about humans. This is about only one singular human, Max. Who doesn’t fit into any book Zeph has ever read, including the fictional ones.

The traps were annoying. This phase of the trial is about what a _mother_ wants, and that’s completely out of Zeph’s experience.

“You lead your people,” The mother says, after the pause. “Where are you going to conquer?”

What? That’s insane. “Nowhere. I can barely get other nagas to stop arguing for five minutes. And if I did have more land, it’d be _worse_. The last thing I want is _more_ responsibility.”

The sorceress stands from her throne, slow and deliberate. Her brow very faintly wrinkled.

Zeph thought this was going poorly earlier. His coils tighten.

Clearly things can get worse.

Why do humans have to be strange, with a society that makes even less sense than their people do.

“You live. In a _hole_.” She takes a single step down the stairs. Then another. “You don’t have the _slightest_ bit of ambition. You can’t control your people, and you don’t understand my son.”

She paces closer with every word. If Zeph could backpedal, he’d be doing it. Instead he leans away.

“Do you have even _one single thing_ to offer?” Her face twists into something unpleasant. “What do you bring to the table, serpent? What _can_ you do for my son?”

“I-” Zeph starts. Stops. He’s not sure what to say.

But Max is his lover. He knows that now. It’s clear and certain and unquestionable. No matter what this mother thinks, that will still be a fact.

The problem is what this mother _wants_. She needs to be certain that Zeph is _enough,_ and he isn’t sure how to prove it.

Her hands widen, she lifts her arms, and - Zeph sucks in a breath. That’s a _lot_ of magic, boiling up from her.  

Right. _Sorceress_.

Zeph ducks down, dropping to the ground, and curls up around himself like a hatchling, because his scales are his best defence. Zeph knows he’s great, magically. For a naga.

He’s no match in magic for _this_ kind of monster.  

Zeph tightens his tail, covering himself from the spreading destruction, scales heating up, some crackling like static. Stone crunches, and groans. There’s crumpling, and shattering, and something that sounds like glass splintering everywhere - and

Zeph’s  glad that he balled up again, because if he hadn’t that might be his _head_ exploded. He lies low, and keeps his eyes shut.

The noise fades.

Eventually, there’s silence.

Then the soft sound of a woman composing herself. The ruffle of her hands straightening out the fabric of her dress.

Zeph peeks open an eye, lifting himself up. He watches shards of glass trickle down from the windows. Some of the lanterns are melted. The throne room is only… slightly completely damaged.

Max’s mother runs a hand through her hair, and sits back down on her throne. “Apologies, serpent. I _can_ get carried away. I could have….” She trails off, leaving all the possibilities to the imagination. Waving it off with a hideous, smug smirk.

Zeph nods, tightens his coils, and silently, internally seethes.

What a stupid, pointless thing to do. The traps didn’t work. Her talk didn’t work. That threat didn’t work, because even after it he’s unharmed. All that power and she didn’t even _follow through_. Maybe she thinks that Zeph’s too powerless to be _worth_ hurting.

When Zeph came out of his egg, he learned right from the start that anyone he met was likely older, and tougher, and stronger. Most of them even thought smacking around a strangely colored hatchling was _fun_.

Now Max’s mother sits in her throne. Smiling smugly, because she's miles out of Zeph's league, and both of them know it. She outclasses Zeph in magic _entirely_ , she could blast him into pieces, and making it clear was fun for her. Like Zeph wasn’t _already_ aware of what he was challenging.  

Worst of all, she's watching him stew in that knowledge, perfectly pleased.

Zeph’s shoulders tense.

He isn’t going to back down, not here, not now. Not ever.

She’s trying her damnedest to scare off and eliminate any unsuitable suitor. _Not_ being chased off is the only way to win. Zeph has to show his feelings are strong, and that _he_ is too. He’s not a  _runt_ anymore, to be dismissed like this. He’s so far from it it’s barely a memory.

Being treated like this,  _again_ , makes him want to crush something. Even before he grew into his full size, he proved every other asshole wrong. He had something else to get people off his tail. They never expected -

Actually.

The tactic should still apply here. Only this time, it's in reverse.

Zeph moves right in front of the throne, and bows, as deeply and respectfully as he can. “Ma'am. Can I say something?”

The sorceress raises an eyebrow. Waves a dismissive hand. “By all means, go on.”

This is risky, foolish, and stupidly aggressive. But that’s what adventure is all about, as Max keeps telling him. Hopefully she’ll take it in the right spirit.

“I can promise you,” Zeph raises a hand, then rests it on his chest. “That Max will _never_ forget to write again.” He waves his other hand with a smile. It keeps her looking at his face, instead of where his tail is moving. “And if he’s away, I’ll write you instead.”

The other eyebrow goes up. “Fair,” She sounds almost surprised, and a little pleased. “But anyone could do that.”

“And,” He stops. Looking hesitant. He coughs into his clenched fist. “I... don’t think I could say the other part.”

She gets up from her seat. “I want to hear it anyway.” Voice unimpressed, and commanding.

"I really shouldn't," Zeph says.

He watches her stride closer. She’s within seven feet. Then six.

He looks away, ducking his head to one side. “I can do something else,” He mutters, keeping his voice quiet.

“Do what, exactly?” She asks, even less pleased, as she takes another two steps closer to try and catch his voice.

Got her.

“The obvious, ma'am.” Zeph says lightly, and smiles. His striking instincts are still sharp, and for the second time ever, he’s used them on a human. “I can _protect_ him.”

Max’s mother’s face turns blank.

She smacks a palm on the coil over her waist. Then on the one around her neck, where Zeph's tailtip lies wrapped close, but not tightly, against her pulse. Zeph squeezes the tiniest bit, just to see her face screw up in discomfort.

“You came within striking range, ma'am. It’s purely instinct,” Zeph lies. “And you _were_ threatening me.”

Someone too focused on _one_ kind of strong can be blindsided with another.

It’s why Zeph’s magic always got him out of tight straights with other, bigger nagas. It’s why he grew old enough to _grow_.

This sorceress caught a taste of Zeph on Max, with his veiling on Max, and she’s a purely magical monster. Knowing Zeph had some magic to work with, she forgot what _should_ have been obvious.

“I’ll keep him safe. I’ll literally crush his enemies.” Zeph says, in a lighter tone. “Anyone who wants to get at your son has to go through me.”

She opens her mouth, and Zeph pulls her closer. He keeps it gentle as he can. He has no idea how much pressure would harm a human who’s this old. The sorceress tugs at his coils, breathing slow. She’s calm in the way that hides a simmering anger.

Zeph leans in, face close to hers. He pats her cheek with the very end of his tail. "Now. Don’t _ever_ threaten me again.”

So she can blast him into pieces, magically - but she let him get a grip on her, and that was her own foolish, arrogant mistake, and if she finishes him off now, then she’ll have to deal with a naga’s death throes, and _neither_ of them win in that scenario.

They watch each other. Zeph taps his tail against her shoulder a few times.

Max’s mother tenses.

And amazingly, bursts out laughing.

“Good gods. You are _far_ more daring than I thought,” She says, smiling wide. She taps Zeph’s tail with a finger. “Loosen up, darling.” She cocks her head to one side. “We wouldn’t want to upset Max, would we?”

Zeph, reluctantly, lets his tail drop off of her, landing back on the floor with an awkward ‘thwack’ of scale on stone.

“Could you really have crushed me, Zephyrus?” She muses, cupping a hand to her cheek, with a small, secretive smile  “I doubt it.”

Knowing her magic, she might be right. But this trial was frustrating, and stupid, and so is this sorceress. Zeph makes the rude gesture he learned from Max.

“I’ll take that as agreement.” She says dryly. “Quite the risk you took there.” 

Zeph shrugs. “Not really.” None of these traps were _instantly_ deadly, even to humans.

This was only ever a test.

She tried to put fear into Zeph’s heart, tried to discourage him, tried to threaten him, and none of it worked. She threw every thing she could at him, and it's over.

He won, she lost.

Max is _Zeph’s_ now.  _His_ , by right of challenge.

Zeph’s been protecting Max’s life for almost two years now - they’ve been mated for over one - and Zeph’s face still feels hot. Making things official is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“So,” Zeph starts, then pauses, looking around for other traps, just to be certain. “I passed?”

Honestly, Max’s mother has accepted her loss with remarkable grace. She doesn’t seem annoyed, even with the threat.

She shrugs, retreating to her throne. “I was close to passing you from the start, serpent. Max clearly adores you. He’d be too curious if you vanished, your body’s too large to bury in a hurry, and nagas take to curses like oil to water. Disappearing you would be _terribly_ difficult.”

Then she smiles.

It’s subdued, bur something about it strikes Zeph as exactly like _Max_.

“Darling, you won me at ‘crushing his enemies.’ What a wonderful sentiment.” Her smile is downright fond. “If any of the ladies _Will_ brought by made half that good a promise, he wouldn’t have had to search the pond so often.”

Zeph slumps in place. His tail splays out on the floor.

It’s over. Truly over. Max’s family won’t be the cause of his death.

The number one suspect for Zeph’s death will remain ‘heart attack from watching Max do something reckless’, and he’d already accepted that fate.

“Yes. Much better than the others.” The mother says with a nod. Almost affirming it to herself. “Come join me.” She pats the air next to her seat. She leans down as she grabs something from a bag next to the throne. With all the… _everything_ else going on, Zeph didn’t notice it was there.

Zeph slithers up next to her. Curious, if nothing else. He settles down near the throne in a comfortable coil, watching Max’s mother’s hands as they start doing something complicated with string in her lap.

Max’s mother starts unfurling a small white thing in her hands, long and stringy. Two metal spikes rest on her legs. “Hold this,” The sorceress says, and drapes a loose coil of some soft string in both his hands. “Now. Tell me how you met my son.”

Zeph stays stock still.

He should have expected this.

 _That_ trial was the _monster_ part. There’s still a _human_ one.

“I, uh,” Zeph keeps an eye on the metal spikes in the mother’s lap, as she clicks them and the string against each other. This had better not be some type of human magic. “There was a bounty.”

“Mhmm.” She’s not paying attention.

“I caught the blame.” Zeph watches the soft string trail out of his hands as she weaves her weird human magics. “Max took on the bounty - but when I told him I didn't do it, he believed me.”

“That is like Max,” She says, warmly, then - “ _Was_ it you?” She looks up.

It doesn’t come across as accusing. Only curious. It feels strange, knowing what she is. Knowing that she actually _wouldn’t_ care what he did, and that she’s likely done far worse.  
  
“No, because I _don’t eat humans_ ,” Zeph says, for what feels like the millionth time. Even if he _could_ admit it to Max’s mother, facts are facts. Why do people keep thinking he’s that kind of monster. “Your kind are far too much trouble.” He pauses, then adds, “You don’t even taste good.”

She laughs, sharp and bright. “ _That_ I can believe. My, aren’t you  practical-minded.” Her tone is - it keeps sounding approving, and Zeph’s not certain he can trust it

He looks up around the hall, at the stringlike stuff in his hands, at the dark and sinister air the entire hall carries - then asks. “I- Max’s mother?”

“Isabella.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep calling me ‘Max’s Mother’, amusing as you find it. Call me Isabella.” Max’s- _Isabella_ states. “Tell me the rest of your story.”

Zeph looks around the room again. Surely he’s already seen all the traps.

Which means the _decor_ has been like this for a while. If she couldn’t change out the traps - there’s no way the skull lanterns, the spikes, and the intimidating throne were brought in at the last minute. These are permanent fixtures in the throne room of this noble family.

Zeph can’t help it. He asks. “Does Max know what you are?”

“Of course he does! Almost everyone does.” Isabella sounds surprised. Then she clicks her tongue, thinking. “I’m not one hundred percent certain my _husband_ does. But," She shrugs. "I suppose you were right, serpent. I _am_ old.” She smiles in wry amusement. “And I’ve been _retired_ for an awfully long time.”

“You're... what?”

Since when was _that_ an option for a sorceress. Though she is… old. More than any other Zeph has heard of.

“Ah, ah, ah, we weren’t on about me,” She wags her finger in the air, shaking her head. “We were on about you. Tell me your little... ‘tail.’”

Zeph gives her the exact same look he gives Max, whenever he makes a pun that horrible. It gets zero reaction.

Nothing for it but to keep talking.

“ _Somehow,_ Max decided we were friends, and he kept _visiting_. Every time I looked, he was there with…. gifts, and compliments, and food.” Zeph explains, frustrated. Max simply wouldn’t see sense. Why was he was so persistent. “Eventually we _were_ friends, and. I got used to it. Then-”

There are ten thousand ways in which he will never, _ever_ mention that spring to anyone.

“It ended up like this without me ever trying.” Zeph finishes. Undeniably true. _Zeph_ never made a move, so technically he’s not lying.

“It’s funny, isn’t it.” Isabella says, keeping up her needlework. “Some foolhardy, reckless adventurer, deciding to befriend you. Not even _thinking_ you’ll give them a no. Even when you _try_ , you don’t manage to chase them off.” She tuts softly, but not unkindly. “Give them too long, and you won’t even want to.”

“Yes,” Zeph says, with deep feeling. “That’s _exactly_ what-”

He stops mid-sentence as realization dawns.

Zeph looks at her with renewed horror. “You _didn’t_.”

 _Retired_. Sorceresses are territorial, but unlike nagas, they always want more. Only this one  _stopped_ her conquests _,_  for a reason Zeph is just beginning to grasp.

“Sadly true.” Isabella admits, still working her needles and thread. “I’m afraid to say I fell into a very similar trap.”

”Your husband.” Zeph looks her over, thinks - he grimaces. “What.  _Him_?”

“You’re in no place to judge, Zephyrus. You’re _much_ more domesticated.” She says, dry as a desert. “And I can’t see a way _you_ were mistaken for a ‘damsel in distress’”

“He thought...” Zeph has a hard time putting Isabella anywhere near that category.

“Always trying to ‘rescue’ me from my servants.” Isabella replies, matter-of-fact. “Supremely annoying. A constant thorn in my side. Wrecking my plans, always storming into my castle, trying to ‘save’ me. Being charming.” She sighs. “He’s the single most _massive_ moron I have _ever_ had the displeasure to meet.”

“But…” She hums for a bit. Her gaze distant, looking somewhere else. Into memory. After a moment, her mouth quirks up. “He was _always_ very sweet.“

Zeph nods, very slowly. That, he understands. “I know what that’s like.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Isabella adds, returning her attention to the present. “Max may not always use them, but I know he inherited _some_ wits.”

Max isn’t always. With things. He charges into things like his father does, without thinking.

_Mostly._

On rare occasions, Max surprises Zeph with an burst of insight, usually when Zeph least expects it. It’s always startling, it’s very strange, and the strangest part is that Max is always _right_.

Max was right about something _important_ , too, well before Zeph could ever bring himself to think about it. Max knew they were already - that Zeph already - as Max’s mother put it -

No. _Zeph_ never caused any havoc. If _either_ of them is domesticated, it’s _Max_. Hell knows he’s not roving out too far these days.

Still.

“They’re insidious, aren’t they. Adventurers.” Zeph says, finally.

“They’re dangerous even without a sword." Isabella nods, with some mild exasperation. "Absurd things, aren't they? And yet they still survive.”

Zeph sits with her in silence, as she resumes her knitting. It’s surprisingly comfortable. Listening to her needles clack against each other. Watching that string tangle around into something that starts looking like cloth.

Isabella clears her throat, and Zeph realizes he’s been looming over her for a while, even placing a hand near her shoulder. “Curious, snake?”

“A little.” Zeph sinks back down.

“Let me show you.”

She offers him some extra spikes. This, after he’s already threatened her. Zeph hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” She opens her hand. Zeph has no choice but to catch those spikes or let them fall to the floor. “Did I ever tell you about the time Max chased after a wood nymph?”

“No?” Zeph fumbles with the spikes, then sputters as some soft string is tossed right into his face. “You’ve never told me anything. We’ve barely _met_.”

“Then I will teach you how to knit,” Isabella says, with regal certainty. “And I will tell you all _kinds_ of embarrassing stories about my youngest child. And you will _use_ those stories, whenever you need to, and make him think twice about doing something idiotic.”

Zeph blinks.

"Ma’m-” He pauses, corrects himself. “Isabella.” He can’t bow without legs, but he makes the effort, leaning down. “I would be honored.”

“Excellent.” She says primly, and her smile widens, metal clicking against metal in her deft fingers. She lets out a long, relieved sigh. “I’m so glad Max met someone with some _sense_.”

Max’s family is totally unlike what any human family should be like. They’re nothing like any story Zeph has ever read.

Max and his father are a kind of human which by all rights should never have survived this long. Will seems normal. Perhaps he has something to hide. The mother is a _sorceress_ of all things - a _retired_ one, which is bizarre all on its own - Zeph is on her territory, she should be trying to chase him off again.

But they both know what it’s like, having some kind of permanent, cheerful headache barge into their life, so they have that in common.

Zeph didn't expect to find anything to relate to, with Max's relations. He's never quite fit in. He’s already too strong, too strange, too big and _weird_ for other nagas.

So really... A weird human family is, weirdly, perfect.

That, and Isabella tells fairly decent stories.

“-So of course it _bites_ him when he picks it up,” Isabella continues, knitting with a fluidity Zeph suspects he’ll never have. “And Max comes up to me crying, _so_ upset, because,” She clasps her hands to her face, imitating a whine. “‘But Mom, I just wanted to be _friends_ with it! Why didn’t it like me?’”

“Maybe he shouldn’t grab onto anything he thinks looks interesting,” Zeph mutters. “He never grew out of that.”

How does yarn get everywhere. Max’s mother has a full foot of knitted yarn, while Zeph has two inches of loose loops and a tangling problem.

Isabella gives him a long look. Zeph feels his face heat up.

“... You should have taught him to keep his hands to himself.” Zeph could have discouraged it harder. “He could do with better manners.”

Isabella nods as if Zeph has spoken wisdom. “I could have. But that’s _your_ job now, Zephyrus.” She smirks. “Good luck.”

Passing the torch is surprising, it's amazing, she’s admitted that Max is _his_ now. It's also not comforting in the slightest. Partially because Zeph knows she'll be judging whatever he does, looking over his Max-handling for flaws. And partially because both of them know _Max_ , and what he gets up to.

Zeph rubs at his forehead. Either Isabella already knows about that spring, or she’s guessed. Thankfully she’s not offering commentary. Speaking with Max’s mother means dealing with someone who sees right through everything.

No _wonder_ Max wanted Zeph to mostly deal with the father. His father is cheerful, and adventurous. Max has his father’s attitude, his enthusiasm. Their skin and hair are a perfect match, their personalities similar. Which means the father overlooks things easier than breathing. He ignored Zeph’s strangeness, and strength. And for years he's been oblivious to his wife’s… what she is. 

But at the end of the day, Max _is_ his mother’s son.

Maybe a little dampened. Dimmer. Oblivious, unthinking, not always up to date on what’s going on. Compared to his mother, Max is about as sharp as a damp sock.

But Max  _can_ prepare, when he thinks to. He can plan, when he realizes it’s needed. He can be _tactful_ , even, if he remembers that he _should_ be. Max is clever, every once in a while. He knew a confrontation between his monstrous mother and lover might happen, in one of his bursts of insight.

And he thought it would go poorly.

They arrived completely unannounced, which gave his mother no time to prepare. Then, charming the brother, introducing the father, avoiding his mother whenever possible so she couldn’t _properly_ corner Zeph.

Then Max could ride back to their shared home, spread out on Zeph’s coils, and practically burst with silent pride because he’d _protected Zeph_. That’s been a dream of Max’s for _ages,_ even though Zeph needs absolutely nothing of the sort.

 _Adventurers._ Really.

Max’s plan didn’t work. He couldn’t keep up with all of the details. He’s easily distracted, he _forgot,_ he couldn’t adapt to sudden hurdles - But if he was _completely_ oblivious, he wouldn’t have taken precautions in the first place.

What little Max managed made even his _mother_ scramble to get things in order.  _Her_ plans didn’t pan out any better than _Max’s_ did. It makes Zeph smile.

Then he frowns, because knitting is impossible.

Zeph tugs at the knitting needles to untangle a loop - he drops one to yank yarn off himself - and watches the whole metal-and-yarn pile collapse in front of him.

Isabella gives him a look that may actually be sympathetic. Her amusement faded fifteen minutes ago. “Having trouble?”

“I might need some help,” Zeph admits, picking up the tangle of metal and string. It dangles in his hands like a dead, stringy bird.

There’s a creak, then a thud. Zeph and Isabella look up.

Another thud collides with the double doors, and the lock on the door groans at the hit.

At the third, strong blow, the lock snaps, and the next sends the doors swinging open wide. 

The light of the entryway spills into the hall, revealing Max stands in the doorway. His shoulders squared, his breath coming fast. He’s shirtless, he’s glaring, his free hand is on the hilt of the sword slung on his belt.

Zeph rises up at the predictably overdramatic entrance. As strange as this journey has been, it's had a few upsides. One is that Max's Maxness makes _slightly_ more sense.

“Isabella Richards!” Max shouts, storming in. He draws his sword and holds it level. “Where is my-” His steps slow, and trail off, until he stops in place. His sword arm drops in degrees, until it dangles towards the floor. Max b links. “Zeph?”

Zeph waves, careful not to get wrapped up in yarn again. “I have no idea how to do this… knitting.” He admits. It looked simple, but it was deeply deceptive. Exactly the kind of thing a sorceress would introduce him to.

Max sheaths his sword in an instant, and takes off running down the hall.

Zeph startles - but whatever traps are still there, Max avoids them all with alarming alacrity. An instant later, there’s a Maxful of human in his arms, and a hug slightly to one side of uncomfortable.Max buries his face in Zeph’s shoulder, his warm body against Zeph’s own, squeezing tight. Zeph wraps his arms around him right back.

He gets barely a second of it, because apparently, Max has other ideas.

He stands up straight, sterns himself, and turns on his mother. “ _Mom_!” Max raises his hands, incredulous. He waves them around, motions at her.

“What, dear?”

“ _This."_  Max waves over all of Zeph, hands flailing. “He-!” He points accusingly. “ _You_.” He hisses, and wags his finger at her, eloquent as always.

Isabella watches, then nods. She tucks her knitting to one side. “You waved a sword at me.”

“I- Yeah, sorry.” Max is slowly turning red. He sterns his shoulders. “But what _else_ was I supposed to do?”

“It wasn’t deadly, dear. You’d have no trouble checking the pond.”

“Well _I’m_ not _Will_.” Max declares, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. “I take this seriously!”

“Max, your man is fine.”

“Yeah! But I know monsters test other monsters, and Zeph’s my lover!” Max puffs out his chest, holding a hand against his heart. “So if there needs to be a test, _I’ll_ take it for him!”

Zeph rests his face in his hands.

Max is so…. _Max_ that he doesn’t understand.

He _couldn’t_ be the one to take on this challenge, or face these trials. The point of adventuring is going into the unknown, while Max has known this castle and his family all his life. He’s part of the quest, but it’s not a part he’s used to. Explaining that will be a trial all its own. Zeph’s not sure where to start.

He’ll tell Max the whole story, later. Once they’re back home.

For the moment, Zeph catches his hard-won prize around the shoulders, and turns him around.

Max startles, resists. “Hey, Zeph, wait. I can _do_ this-”

“It’s alright,” Zeph interrupts. He wraps his arm around Max’s waist. “I handled it.”

Isabella holds a hand to her mouth, turning her laugh into a cough.

Zeph gives her a look, pulling Max closer. She had better not comment. Let Max keep his delusion. Adventurers are all protective to the point of idiocy, and it’s not like her husband is any different with _her_.

“Are you sure? I could…” Max hesitates. Suddenly pausing. Zeph can almost see the gears turning in his head.

One hundred percent Max. Only thinking of _how_ he could fight a threat, well after he’d already made his challenge.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Zeph agres, then, after a thought, adds, “You were very brave.”

Max breaks into a smile. “Oh. That’s great!” His eyes shut, and his forehead drops against Zeph’s shoulder, weight sinking against him. "I just saw you were gone, and-" He waves an arm, voice dropping into a mumble. "Had to do _something_."

Zeph nods. He runs his hand over Max’s back, looking around.

The sun still hasn’t risen. The only light showing through the windows comes from the full moon.

Max jolts upright suddenly, standing straight with a snort. “Wait! This is serious. I mean…” He wags a finger at his mother, but his hand keeps dropping before he remembers to keep it raised.

That’s enough.

It’s too late-slash-early for anyone to be awake. It’s more than too late for Max to get annoyed at his mother, and he's had all of two hours of sleep. Besides, as the _monsters_ are concerned, their discussion is already _over_. Max is simply too stubborn and half-asleep to see sense.

There’s still a few hours until dawn. Might as well make use of them.

“Right, ” Zeph says. He tucks an arm around one of Max’s, hauling him around. Max makes a noise, more startled than anything. “We’re leaving.”

“It’s been interesting, serpent.” Isabella says, resuming her knitting, as a slow smile creeps onto her face. “We’ll do lunch.”

Zeph wants to protest, and ends up saying, “Alright.”

He’s had less pleasant company before. That, and lunch with Isabella is bound to be as _least_ as good as dinner. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.

They leave with no ceremony, other than Isabella’s quiet laughter behind them. Max stumbles a little, shakes his head - Zeph slows his slither, so Max’s tired pace matches his own. But Max keeps _l_ ooking back to where they came from. Darting glances over his shoulder, uncomfortable.

Halfway back to Max’s room, Zeph finally stops in the empty hallway. “What’s wrong?”

Max takes a breath to say something - stops. He smiles, and it wavers. It’s as unsteady as Zeph’s ever seen it.

Max shouldn’t look like that. Ever.

Zeph tucks a hand under Max’s chin, pushing his face up to meet his eyes. “Max?”

“Zeph?” Max isn’t looking at him. His hands wring against each other. It makes Zeph’s scales itch.  
  
“Yes?”

Max finally meets Zeph’s gaze - and slaps his hands over his forehead. He groans, slumped forward. “I- Damnit, okay. I should have warned you.”

Zeph blinks. He hadn’t expected that. “What. About your mother?”

“I _really_ hoped we could avoid Mom. She’s kinda.” Max waves a hand. “My _mom_ , and you’re,  uh, both- You know.” He smiles helplessly, and shrugs, pink with embarrassment. “I hoped that maybe we could just… skip that part?”

Zeph nods, very seriously, and puts a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t manage it quick enough because Max suddenly looks indignant.

“It’s not _funny_  Zeph! I was worried!”

“Warning might have been nice,” Zeph admits, letting himself smile. “But it wouldn’t have helped. We’re _boss_ monsters, Max.” Zeph strokes a strand of hair away from Max’s eye with his thumb. “We  _have_ to prove why we're dominant.”

And if he’s being fair - Max? A _sorceress’_ son? Zeph would have never believed the warning. He’s already met them both, and it’s _still_ strange.

He watches the concept slide in one side of Max’s brain and out the other, right through the blind spot that is ‘protect Zeph’. Max starts to speak. “But-”

Zeph smacks a hand over his human’s mouth before he can protest further. He can figure this out. There’s a way to make it clear. Zeph’s read about humans, there are parallels. It can’t be _that_ different -

Right.

“Your mother needed to sit in her chair, polishing her crossbow, while she asked about my intentions. And we’re _nobles_ , so it was always going to involve - “ Incredible violence. "...proving our rank.”

“Oh.” Max says. His eyes widen suddenly, as the idea strikes home. He smacks a fist into his other hand. Then he smiles, weaker than usual. “I’m still sorry, Zeph.” He raises his hands, awkward - but starting to grin. “I should have mentioned my mom has a _lot_ of… rank." He grimaces. "And a lot of crossbows.”

“Dozens,” Zeph agrees.

Max cups his hands on Zeph’s face. Smiling wide, and tilting his head. “Hey, I know I say it a lot, but Zeph? You’re amazing.”

Zeph’s not, but Max is kissing him, and that doesn’t leave much room to protest. Why Max thinks that is ridiculous - but the details don’t matter. Those are for people who still have to worry about Isabella. Everyone has to prove themselves worthy in her eyes.

Zephyrus has defeated her, and now Max is _his_. Her youngest son, both won, and won over.

He pulls back and runs his thumb over Max’s lip. “So. I went into a strange and dangerous place.”

Max looks confused.  “Where?”

“Your castle, Max,” Zeph says, taking a deep breath, puffing out his chest - but only a little. “Where I faced all kinds of danger-”

“What-” Max starts, then, “Oh,” He smiles slightly less. “I _did_ say I was sorry about Mom-”

Zeph talks over him. “I faced all of it - including your mother.” He raises his chin, shoulders straight. “And I won.”

“Wait. _All_ the danger?” Max frowns. “What else _was_ there?”

Zeph rolls his eyes. Most humans wouldn't get it, explaining to Max is twice as difficult. No point in trying.

Max makes a startled noise when Zeph hauls him up. He keeps an arm tucked under Max’s legs, his other braced against his back, and leans back slightly to balance Max’s weight in his arms.

“Point being, I won. And that means-” He sighs. “Max, I’ve _got_ you. Stop squirming.”

“But I can walk by-” Max pauses.

Zeph slides forward, letting Max process the concept with his arm still frozen in the air, mid-thought.

After a moment, Max throws said arm around Zeph’s shoulders.

“Zeph!” Max says, grinning brilliantly. “You were incredibly brave.” He cups a hand to his own cheek, as thrilled as if _he’s_ the one who won the adventure. “Oh, man." He winks. "They never said adventurers would be _this_ handsome!” He kicks a leg up, striking a pose. Which doesn’t make this traditional human way of carrying him any _easier,_  but it _is_ a relief that Max isn’t upset.

He’s joking, but not by much. It’s an odd position for Max, but he’s clearly not bothered, because he’s still looking at Zeph like he always has.

Like somehow, there’s something incredible about Zeph. Like he’s exceptional, like he’s got something amazing about him - like everything about Zeph that makes him strange actually makes him _better_.

Well, Max has been right about _more_ impossible things.

Zeph straightens his back, shifts his lover into a more comfortable grip, and nods to himself. He slithers towards their room, and all the while Max is carried like the damsel he absolutely isn’t.

The boss, defeated. The hero, triumphant.

Zeph can almost - only _almost_ \- see the appeal of this profession, while he carries his prize away. Wandering off into - It’ll have to be the sun _rise_ instead of the sun _set._

Nothing’s perfect.

Max hums to himself, content and amused, kicking his legs in Zeph’s arms, enjoying the sheer novelty. He grins up at Zeph, and presses a wet, overdramatic kiss to his cheek. “My hero.”

“Thank you,” Zeph says, shaking his head. He slaps the door to Max’s room open with his tail. “Now please _never_ call me that again.”

Adventures are the worst, and Zeph is absolutely _never_ taking on another one. Where most of them have a clear and certain ending, this one _doesn’t_. It could go on for years, and years, if Zeph lets it.

Which he’s going to. That was never under question.

Max rolls out of Zeph’s arms after they enter, trots to his bed, and collapses back into it with the loose bonelessness of the truly exhausted. “Way too early”. He groans. He rolls onto his side, stretching and then patting the sheets. “C’mere,” His voice already dropping lazily into sleep. ”I know you love naps.”

“Among other things.” Zeph agrees, and slides forward to join him, slipping under the blankets. Warm, soft, and close to the source of all his future trials.

Zeph shuffles deeper into the blankets and settles in.

One adventure can be enough for a whole lifetime. He's sure this one’s going to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be an epilogue, but not for a while!

**Author's Note:**

> I made OCs and then I liked 'em a lot, what can I say. They're not the best OCs in the world, they're fairly silly - but I like 'em and they're mine.


End file.
